Another Leap in the Dark
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Third story in my Schism series. Tim is trying to rebuilding the life he'd previously attempted to destroy. It will not be smooth sailing however... but when is it ever? And this story is finally complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is the third story in my series which began with _Schism_. As is depressingly common for me, I can't seem to tell a story briefly. So, _Schism_ was about the breakdown of Tim's life, both physical and mental, and the separation from all that he had previously valued. _Not Destroyed_ was about the healing of body and spirit. This story is about the rebuilding of Tim's life...and of the connections he'd previously destroyed. Since each story follows on the heels of the one before it, it's probably best to read the others first...but it's probably possible to read and maybe even enjoy this story without doing that. As with _Not Destroyed_, I'm posting this as I write it...which is not my usual practice, but is popular enough that I'll continue on it with this series.

Oh, one more thing, the title comes from "Elemental" by Tears for Fears. It's a great song and easily found on YouTube. I highly recommend it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS nor its characters. I am not making money off this story. It is written purely for entertainment.

* * *

><p><strong>Another Leap in the Dark<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

_Take another leap in the dark  
><em>_With a humble heart  
><em>_Do yourself some good  
><em>_What did you become?  
><em>_Patience  
><em>_Be sure_

_These days it's all in the mind.  
><em>_It's elemental.  
><em>_Don't say you're up when you're down.  
><em>_It's elemental._

Elemental by Tears for Fears

**Chapter 1**

_8 months after the end of _Not Destroyed...

Ducky smiled when he heard the shower go on...yet again. Tim had awakened very early and then had proceeded to get ready for the day...multiple times. It was as if he felt he had to start over with every time he changed his mind.

After a few minutes, the shower went off.

"Timothy!" Ducky called.

"I know!" was Tim's faint reply.

Ducky just chuckled to himself and headed to the kitchen. Jethro began whuffling at him as soon as he reached his destination.

"Good morning, Jethro. How are you this fine day?"

Jethro panted at him and then padded over to the door.

"Ah, I see. Yes, you need to get out." He opened the door. "Have at it."

Jethro streaked out into the backyard. Ducky let him go and turned his attention to preparing breakfast. Tim had been staying with him for the last few days while he prepared for the next major step in reclaiming his life. After his meeting with Dr. Lewis, he had spent a few weeks with Matt and Judith...and then, returned to Maine. He'd stayed in Maine for another month before visiting his family in Ohio for the first time in a very long time. He had stayed in Ohio for a couple of months before returning to DC. When he had come back, Ducky had been surprised at how changed Tim was...and for the better, finally. His visits, particularly to his family, had become a signal of his willingness to embrace the life he could have. And Ducky also knew that Tim had been writing again...not that he'd been allowed to see anything, but that was less important than the realization that Tim was slowly but surely getting back into the groove of living.

...and today was a very important part of that.

There was a thumping down the stairs. Finally, Tim had approved of his own appearance. Ducky turned around as he came into the kitchen. He smiled.

Gone were the days of Tim looking more like a stick than a real human being. He wasn't carrying even an ounce of extra flesh on his body, it seemed, but, as he'd announced to Ducky only two days ago, he was currently sitting at a respectable 178 pounds. It was nowhere _near_ overweight, but he was so much more solid than he had been. Maine had been good for him. Ohio had been good for him. ...even his return to DC had been good for him.

"What do you think?" Tim asked, spreading his arms.

He was dressed in a suit but without a tie. A kind of dressed-up business casual.

"You look fine, lad."

"Okay...but is it good enough?" Tim asked, worriedly.

"You've got this far without purchasing an entire wardrobe. You will do fine. Don't worry about your appearance. Don't worry so much!"

Tim smiled. "I was more nervous the first time, believe it or not."

"I'll admit that I find it hard to believe."

The smile turned into a slight grimace, but then he chuckled ruefully.

"I called my mom and was sending her pictures of various outfits over email so that she could tell me if I looked all right. At least I chose it on my own this time."

"True. Are you ready for breakfast?"

"No, but I'd better eat anyway. It'd be pretty embarrassing if my stomach started growling right in the middle of everything."

Ducky laughed.

"What are _you_ doing today?" Tim asked as he sat down.

"Nothing so exciting as you. Dr. Palmer has asked me to join him once more. He says that the body is quite fascinating."

"Aren't they always?" Tim asked.

"I happen to think so. Actually, I've been asked to give a lecture tomorrow about that very thing. So after I attend the autopsy, I'll be looking over my notes."

"You don't need notes, Ducky. You could just start talking."

Ducky smiled. "Well, Icertainly _could_, but I believe that it will be better if I make certain that my lecture is slightly organized. I don't know if you've noticed, but I do have a tendency to wander a bit."

Tim cleared his throat hastily and then began to eat. Ducky mock-glared at him and followed suit. He could tell that Tim was suppressing his nerves to some degree. This meant a lot to him, and the fact that he'd gotten so far was _daring_ him to hope for more. It was something that he was struggling to accept. Sometimes, he still had issues with believing that he had the right to a good life. Most of the time, he was able to get past them with a minimum of effort.

"My interview is headquarters," Tim said, unnecessarily.

"Yes, I know that."

"Do you think they'll be there?"

"Very likely...unless they have a case going."

Tim nodded and licked his lips. His interactions with his former teammates were still mostly tentative, but becoming less and less awkward as time went on. They weren't friends as yet, but Ducky had high hopes that the possibility existed as they all slowly moved beyond what they had done, what Tim had done and what they'd all gone through.

"Do you _want_ them there?"

Tim smiled a little. "I don't know." He took a deep breath. "I won't worry about it. Whether they're there or not, I can't...control that."

"Very true."

And what an amazing achievement that simple statement was. Tim's acceptance of his own ability to control (or not) his environment. Considering where he had come from, mind broken, life in ruins...all ultimately stemming from that cultivated need to control every aspect of himself and his world...being able to accept that he couldn't control something was wonderful. Only Ducky's awareness of Tim's resistance to celebrating every small step kept him from telling Tim that he'd done a wonderful job.

After they finished eating, both men sat in silence for a few minutes...Tim absently chewing the inside of his cheek.

"I guess I could get there a little early," he said, finally.

"Yes, you could."

"Okay. I'll come with you, if you don't mind."

Ducky nodded. "I don't mind at all. Just let me gather my things."

"I'll clean up."

"Very well."

Ducky knew that Tim would check on Jethro, make sure all was well with his dog, and _then_ clean up the kitchen, but the order wasn't important. Tim's need to do something to illustrate his gratitude at having living space _was_.

He didn't have much to take with him. In the months since he'd retired from NCIS, Ducky had been pleasantly surprised at how well he'd been able to transition from working full-time to being called upon for odd things. Jimmy loved asking him to come to NCIS for "consultations". He was actually considering applying to be an instructor at one of the local universities. The best thing was that he could very honestly state that he was enjoying his changed life.

"I'm ready to leave, Timothy!" he called.

Tim was out of the kitchen in an instant.

"I'm ready," he said.

"You look fine. You will _do_ fine. Be honest and let the chips fall where they may."

Tim inhaled deeply and nodded.

"Right."

They left together.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting out in the hallway, waiting.

He felt like he'd spent a _lot_ of time recently...just waiting. He was getting good at it.

Finally, the door opened.

"Timothy McGee?"

Tim nodded.

"Please, come inside."

Tim stood up and walked into the room. There were three agents sitting at the table. One indicated that he should sit down across from them.

"Congratulations on making it this far, Mr. McGee."

"Thank you."

"Of course, this is the final interview in the application process. Should we recommend further processing, you'll have a number of forms to fill out in order to determine your fitness to be a special agent."

"I understand."

"Good. Now...to start off, just tell us a little bit about your background. Family, schooling... former employment."

That slight hesitation told Tim that all three of them were well-aware of who he was. Well, there was no changing that. He took a deep breath and started to tell them things they might _not_ know about him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You were right, Dr. Palmer," Ducky said. "This _is_ a very fascinating autopsy. Thank you for allowing me to join you."

"My pleasure, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said with a grin. "I don't think Gibbs trusts me as much as he trusts you...but he's at least stopped giving me the evil eye every time I speak."

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, he did tend to that, didn't he."

"Yeah."

"Well, if he's stopped, that means he respects the work you're doing."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. You know that position doesn't mean much to Jethro. He'll let you know if you're not meeting his standards. If he has said nothing, you've passed his personal test."

Jimmy smiled with more relief than he probably wanted to reveal. "That's great to know."

"I can't fault your work, either, Dr. Palmer. It is impeccable."

"Thank you!" Jimmy flushed with pleasure and then hesitated for a moment.

Ducky understood.

"He should be in the interview even as we speak."

"Wow."

"Indeed. But back to the autopsy. Do you think the sand was actually injected into his veins or added in some other way?"

"I don't know. But it's really amazing how it's in there. I don't know why someone would _want_ to do it."

"Nor I."

Ducky was more than happy to focus his attention on the corpse.

It kept him from worrying.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Thank you for your time, Mr. McGee. Before you go, I have one last question."

Tim nodded. There wasn't any mystery about this.

"We are all aware of the broad circumstances involving your resignation from NCIS nearly three years ago."

Again, Tim nodded.

"Do you feel that, given those circumstances and the resulting mental breakdown, that you are truly fit to be a special agent again? Won't you have to worry about the same kinds of situations now?"

Tim took a moment to gather his thoughts. He'd known there would be some kind of reference to all that had happened, and he'd considered what he might say.

"I would like to say that the situation which resulted in my breakdown will never arise again, but I can't say that honestly. It's _unlikely_, but it's not certain. I did not begin this process lightly. I have nothing but respect for NCIS, its mission, and the people who work for it. When I was growing up, joining NCIS was my goal. I achieved that and then lost it...but the goal itself never changed. I would _not_ have tried to regain my position if I didn't think that I could do it. I am going through the entire process again, starting over in a lot of ways." He looked around at the three interviewers. "While I can't say that what happened was a good thing, I have personally learned a lot about myself and who I am. I understand much more the strain I could be under, and yes, there might be some danger of a recurrence, but it is slight, and I am willing to undergo any tests of my fitness for employment that the hiring board or you as the screening board should choose to set in front of me. You have my records. You have my past history. You have a statement from my psychiatrist of my mental fitness."

He paused for a moment and then chanced a smile.

"So...the short answer to your questions is yes, I feel I'm fit to be an agent again, and no, I don't think I'll have to worry."

The interviewers smiled.

"Thank you, Mr. McGee. You will be contacted when the board has made its decision."

Tim nodded and stood up. He managed to get out of the conference room before nearly wilting with relief at this final hurdle being completed. Yes, there was a chance he wouldn't pass muster, and there was a chance there would be other problems later on, but right now...right now, he could...

...start waiting again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Three weeks later..._

Ducky came back from his guest lecture on forensic psychology feeling almost jubilant. The students had seemed fascinated and the professor had asked that he repeat the lecture for his graduate seminar.

When he opened the door, Tim was standing right there. He held out an envelope.

"Ducky...open this."

Ducky took the envelope. "What is it?"

"It's from...NCIS. It's going to be telling me whether or not they're hiring me. There are so many things that could have gone wrong. I've moved so much. I had lots of temporary jobs. Then...what about the murder of Lance Corporal Smythe last year? I...I can't open it. You do it."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Please?"

"Very well." Ducky slid a finger under the flap and noticed that it had already been opened. He raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to do it myself, but I couldn't."

Ducky laughed and Tim did look a little chagrined...but he didn't move to take back the letter. Ducky pulled it out and silently skimmed through its contents.

"Well?"

"You've passed the next hurdle, Timothy."

"I have?"

Ducky grinned at Tim's overjoyed shock.

"Yes, you have. It says here that you need to prepare to attend FLETC. You'll have a special consultation with the director upon arrival because of your...unique situation."

Tim nodded solemnly.

"You'll start with the next incoming class in three weeks."

"Three weeks."

"Yes. Can you be ready?"

The question was about more than just the physical preparations, of course. Even with Tim's amazing progress, he still met with Dr. Lewis once a week. This was a huge step.

"I think so. Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

"I...I want them to know...but I don't want to be the one to tell them."

"Why not?"

"It's just...still awkward and...and Jamie Davidson is back at work now, too. I don't...would you tell them for me?"

"I will do that."

"Thanks. I _do _want them to know. All of them. I'm happy about this...I just can't do it yet."

"All right, lad. But you keep us all informed once you go. ...and don't forget to tell your parents."

Tim laughed. "I won't. Actually, I called Mom and told her that I'd got the letter but that I was waiting until you got here to read it. I think she wanted to strangle me."

"More than likely. Well, this calls for a celebration. Don't you think?"

"I'm not graduated from FLETC yet, Ducky."

"But you're officially hired, and I have no doubt that you'll succeed there."

That statement was rewarded by a wide smile. Such a small thing, but so very appreciated.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later..._

_FLETC – Glynco, Georgia._

"Agent McGee, Director Connors will see you now."

Tim nodded and stood up. He already had some inklings of what this meeting would really be about. Ostensibly, it was to make sure he was aware of the different coursework he'd be taking, but in reality, Tim thought it was pretty obvious that this was about what kind of person he'd been and whether or not he could handle it.

He stepped into the Director's office.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim nodded at the wiry, balding man sitting at the desk.

"You're not what I was expecting. Have a seat."

"May I ask what you _were_ expecting?"

Director Connors laughed. "You can ask, but I'm not sure I could really answer it satisfactorily. Suffice it to say, I have heard about who you are...and that's the real reason for this meeting."

"You're worried that I can't handle it?"

"Actually, no. I think you can. I have spoken to Director Vance, and he has assured me that you wouldn't be here if you couldn't do it...and I could have had anyone tell you how your courses are going to be modified."

Tim furrowed his brow. "Then, what is it?"

"It's because of what happened, because of what you did. A lot of people are very much aware of what happened, and that could work against you."

"In what respect?"

"In that they may resent you for coming back here after you rejected your position once. A lot of people in law enforcement come through here, and those on the East Coast, are aware, particularly those in the FBI and in NCIS."

"So...what are you telling me?"

"You might be in for some hazing, quite frankly."

"Oh." Tim couldn't think of anything else to say. It seemed like hazing was just going to be a part of his life. People making assumptions about who he was and where he should be. There were some faint stirrings of anger. "So...are you telling me that I'll have to suck it up?"

He could tell that Director Connors heard the anger, even though he'd tried to suppress it.

"To a certain degree, yes. Minor things, I expect you to be able to deal with it. If you can't, you shouldn't be in law enforcement. This is a high-stress occupation. Minor hazing is something you should handle."

"Okay."

"However...by the same token, if things get serious, I expect you to tell _me_ if there is a problem. That's as important because if there are people here at FLETC who feel that they have the right to actually hurt someone who is on their side simply because they think they have the right to determine what that person deserves, they should not be in law enforcement either. The reason I brought you in here was to make sure you're aware. I don't want you to come crying to anyone because you're not having a smooth sail, but I _do_ want to be informed if someone is going overboard."

"Understood," Tim said. He tried not to feel any resentment about this. Hazing. It was bad enough when it was being done by people who were his coworkers and felt no malice about it. But here? He had to deal with the same kind of crap here as well? It just didn't seem fair...but there was no real option.

"Any questions, Agent McGee?"

"None," Tim replied and got to his feet. "No questions, sir." He turned toward the door and then looked back once. "I'm just wondering something."

"Yes?"

"When I finished high school, I thought that I was done with the bullies, but they keep showing up, long after the stupid high school game is done. Could you tell me when it is that the bullying ends?"

"This isn't bullying, Agent McGee."

Tim shook his head. "Maybe it seems different from the outside, but as one who's gone through it for most of my life, I can tell you that the feeling doesn't change, no matter what the age group. Hazing or bullying, it's still done with the same intent. Apparently, it never ends. I won't come crying. I never have before. If that's all, Director Connors..." Tim nodded slightly and walked out of the office.

As he headed for his room, he thought back to when he'd finally escaped from high school and started at MIT. He had the same wish he'd had every time he'd gone to someplace new.

"I just want one friend."

From the sounds of things, he shouldn't depend on that happening. There was no Jim Nelson to smooth the way this time, and his own life decisions made him less likeable.

_I won't let this make me bitter again. I know how I can react. It's only a few weeks. I can make it through._

Determined, Tim went into his room and called his parents to let them know he'd made it all right. He didn't mention his meeting with Director Connors, but he did confess that he was a little apprehensive about his welcome...or lack thereof.

Still, he decided that he wouldn't push himself on anyone. He could focus on the classes and then graduate. He wasn't worried about passing them, not even the physical fitness courses. He was in _much_ better shape than he'd been the last time he'd been here.

He'd make it through, but Tim couldn't help wishing that he'd have a chance to _enjoy_ some of this time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later..._

"Hey, McGee. Still showing us up?"

Tim sighed inwardly but pasted a fake smile on his face as he turned around to confront his tormentor. The only thing that made this better than when he'd been in high school was that he didn't feel helpless. He _hated_ every moment of it, but he could handle it.

"It's not my fault if you're spending all your time trying to show me up, Janssen. If you'd just focus on doing your best, you'd probably be much better off. In fact...we _all_ would be."

"Stop trying to sound all mature, McGee. Everyone knows what you really are."

Tim let himself be amused.

"Oh, really? What's that?"

"A crazy nut who never should have been allowed back here. We were well rid of you."

"So you've said multiple times, Janssen. Don't you get tired of repeating yourself?"

Tim was very conscious of the crowd. This always happened right before a class started. Tim figured that his antagonizer, a new FBI agent, had decided this was the best time to get the attention he seemed to crave.

Shaking his head, Tim pushed through the enveloping crowd and walked into the classroom. He didn't make very many comments during the classes. He would occasionally stay after to speak with the instructors. Whatever the various instructors thought of him, they kept the interactions on a professional level. No friends, but the time Tim spent in classes was a distinct relief. He sat by himself and did his best...which was the problem as far as people like Janssen were concerned. Tim's best was a lot better than Janssen's best. Not that Janssen was stupid in any way, but Tim had gone through FLETC once already, and he had years of experience, plus years of schooling that Janssen didn't have.

Tim took his seat in the corner, but this time, he caught a quick glimpse of his instructor. It was a definite sympathetic expression, but this was his computer forensics course and that was his area to shine. Tim smiled a bit and then adopted his usual submissive posture. It didn't help, but it kept him from seeming to be the aggressor. That could at least make him seem a bit more sympathetic.

Janssen walked by and kicked Tim's bag.

"Oops. Sorry, McGee."

Tim said nothing. He just rolled his eyes and focused his attention on the front of the room.

Only a few weeks more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Tim was reaching his limits, but he was determined to see it through. Janssen had recruited some friends to help in making Tim's life miserable, but so far, it wasn't anything he could report, at least by Director Connors' standards. He was detecting a note of nastiness in their methods lately, but there wasn't long to go. If they just kept it up as they were, he could handle it...he hoped.

The class ended and Tim lingered. He had a couple of questions for the instructor, and it gave everyone a chance to leave and head to the next course. Tim had been switched to a different group for firearms training. He'd never said anything, but he rather thought that the instructor might have made the decision. That meant that he had a free hour after class.

"How are things going, Tim?" the instructor asked.

"I just have a couple of questions about this section."

"That's not what I meant."

Tim smiled a little. "I know, but it's nothing I can't handle. So I'd rather just focus on the class. I have a question about the case study we were doing today. It was an interesting choice and I'm not sure I agree with all the methods in the protection detail."

"All right. Let's see."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Half an hour later, Tim left the classroom and headed for the gym. He still had a while until the next class, which was physical techniques. He hated this class because this was where his nemeses could use the excuse of training to try and take him down. It was with a bit of pride that Tim could think about the fact that they couldn't take him down very often.

He sat on the bleachers and pulled out his laptop to work through an extra case study. Usually, he was pretty safe here.

Not today.

"Hey, McGee!"

Tim let out an audible sigh.

"What is it, today, Janssen? My insanity? My arrogance?" Tim looked up and met Janssen's eye. "Or is it just your own latent stupidity that I have to deal with today?"

Janssen's eyes narrowed.

"You think you're so much better than the rest of us, don't you, McGee."

"You're the one starting this every day, Janssen," Tim said. "If you'd leave me alone, I'd be more than happy to reciprocate. If you don't like seeing my face, stop looking for it."

"Hard to avoid, McGee."

"Why is that?"

"Because wherever you are, you can't be far enough away from me."

There was something darker under his words this time, and Tim got to his feet, pulling his bag onto his back. He could feel that there was a need to get out of this situation as quickly as he could. It wasn't because of what he'd said. Something had changed and Janssen was out for blood this time...and he wasn't alone.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, Janssen. You need to get over it. Grow up."

He stepped around Janssen and started down the bleachers.

The crowd started to part for him.

"McGee!"

Tim turned. ...and started to duck away from Janssen's fist, but Janssen was too fast. He couldn't get away from what he could see was coming at him.

Janssen hit him right on the side of his head and Tim lost his balance on the bleachers.

He fell backwards...and hit the first level on his back. Then, he rolled and his face hit the second level. The third level got his shoulder. The fourth hit his face again. Finally, he hit the gym floor and lay there, facing the bleachers. Still conscious, but unsure what he should be doing now. There were a lot of running feet...not toward him, but away from him.

Tim was waiting to feel like he could move. He was waiting for the shock, the pain, everything to fade so that he could get up.

Then, there were feet moving toward him.

"Tim?"

He recognized the voice. She was one of the people who didn't seek him out but didn't avoid him or attack him. Lucy Cronin.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

Tim just breathed, almost hyperventilating.

"Okay. Just stay where you are. We're going to get you some help."

Tim stared at the bleacher in front of his face. Just lay there.

"Hey! You! Everyone has cell phones! He might be seriously hurt here! Stop standing there like an idiot and call for help!"

He felt hands on his arms and on his head. Touching his neck.

"Tim, it's Lucy. I was an EMT in another life. I won't do anything, but I don't think you broke anything serious."

Tim managed to laugh a little.

"Just stay calm."

Pain was starting to make itself known, all over his body.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

Tim struggled to stay calm. When the EMTs arrived, they took off his backpack and he was finally moved from his side onto his back.

"Tim, can you give us some response, please?"

Tim smiled.

"I don't want to...move," he whispered.

The EMT smiled.

"That's fine. Let us move you."

"Okay."

He got put onto a stretcher and then onto the ambulance. As they took him away, Tim just had one question going through his mind over and over again.

How had it gone so bad so fast?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tim lay limply on the stretcher, letting the EMTs do whatever they wanted. He just couldn't understand how this had happened. Over and over again, he could see Janssen's face as he had swung his fist. There had been no concern, not even any sudden rage. It had been cold and calculated. Whatever the reason, Janssen had _wanted_ to hurt Tim.

He hadn't been attacked like this...something that had come out of the blue but had apparently been planned...not since Jewel.

For the first time in months, he thought of her.

"Tim?"

No. Not this time.

"Tim. Can you hear me?"

Tim felt motion. It hurt a little bit, but he didn't really react. He chose instead to stay in this in-between world where he could allow his mind to dwell on what had happened.

"What do we have?"

There were unfamiliar voices and a sense of controlled chaos around him, but Tim just stared up at the ceiling he could faintly discern beyond the bright light in his eyes.

"Guy was knocked down a set of bleachers. Barely responsive, but it seems to be more psychological than physical. Possible bruised ribs. He'll need stitches on his face. I'm more worried about his mind than his body. Could have been much worse."

"Right. Name?"

"Tim McGee. One of the LEOs in training at FLETC."

Flash of light in his eyes.

"Tim?"

"Pupils equal and reactive."

"Tim, can you hear me?"

Tim winced as they touched his shoulder.

"Possible shoulder injury. Bruising on his chest."

"Are you having any trouble breathing, Tim?"

Fingers probing his face. Tim sucked in a sharp breath.

"Bruising, possible zygomatic fracture. Definitely need some x rays."

"Okay. Call Psych. Get them down here as soon as they can."

"Right."

"Tim?"

A hand in his.

"Just squeeze my hand, all right?"

Tim did so without hesitation.

"Good. We're going to take you to X-ray, now. Then, you might need some surgery, but we'll keep you informed."

Tim closed his eyes. Better to sleep through this if he could.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Director Connors sat down at his desk. He had Tim's file out in front of him. He had reports from the various instructors. All that would have to be dealt with later, but right now, with a serious injury in one of the students, he had to contact the people who needed to know...and he wanted to make the call himself.

He read Tim's file...and then read it again. He had family listed, but emergency contact was one Dr. Donald Mallard. He had no idea why, but he wasn't about to circumvent Tim's instructions. He dialed the number and waited.

"_Hello, Dr. Mallard speaking."_

"Hello, Dr. Mallard. This is Director Connors at FLETC."

"_Oh."_

Clearly, this Dr. Mallard was familiar with procedure.

"_What's happened to Timothy?"_

For a moment, Director Connors toyed with the idea of calling what had happened an accident...but since it wasn't, he decided to be blunt.

"Agent McGee was...attacked by one of the other students this afternoon."

"_Is he seriously injured?"_

"He's been taken to the hospital, but I've been told that his injuries are not life-threatening."

"_But?"_

"But they are worried about his mental state. He has been withdrawn, almost to the point of...dissociation, I think is what they called it."

"_Oh. I wish I could say this had never happened before. I'll come down right away. What is happening with his attacker?"_

"The situation is being dealt with. He was one of a cluster of FBI agents who'd been sent down here for the basic training. They had two more weeks before returning to the FBI training center at Quantico."

"_What a shame."_

Director Connors could hear the sarcasm but chose not to acknowledge it.

"_Is that all you can tell me?"_

"For the moment. I'll be speaking with Agent McGee myself to get his side of it, although there were plenty of witnesses."

"_And no one stepped in to stop this travesty?"_

"No. I'm sorry."

"_I rather think that Timothy is much more sorry than you could ever be, Director Connors. Good-bye."_

The click in his ear signaled the end of the conversation. He supposed that he could do other work here, but he felt he owed it to Tim to get the ball rolling on this as quickly as possible. He sighed. He really hadn't seriously entertained the possibility of something like this occurring. He had felt that Tim's comparison of the likely hazing to bullying had been inappropriate. These weren't teenagers. These were adults, men and women who had been hired to protect the citizens of this country. They wouldn't behave in that fashion. While he had been serious in telling Tim to come to him if something worse happened, he hadn't really thought it _would_.

He left his office.

"I'm heading to the hospital. Don't call unless you have to."

"Yes, sir."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Director Connors?"

"Yes."

"Come on back. We were going to call you."

"You were?"

"Yes. As soon as Agent McGee woke up, he was saying that he needed to talk to you. It's the first time he's really been interacting with us since he was admitted; so we're encouraging it. The attack was fairly traumatizing to him."

"Okay. How is he physically-speaking?"

"Bruised rib. Stitches on his face. He really lucked out, though. No broken bones. He's going to be sore and probably limping for a while. He has a large contusion on his right knee and another on his shoulder. All things considered, it could have been a _lot_ worse. You've contacted his family?"

"Not his family, but his listed contact, yes. He's on his way. A Dr. Mallard."

The doctor looked at him in surprise but then nodded.

"Right in here."

"Thank you."

Director Connors headed into the room. Tim was lying on the bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was something about the expression in his eyes. He didn't understand it at all, but there was much more to Timothy McGee than he had assumed there was.

"Agent McGee?"

For a few seconds, there was no reaction. Then, Tim blinked and looked at him.

"Director Connors," he said. A deep breath. "I...would like to make a report. I think this went beyond..._hazing_."

"Yes, it did...and I'm sorry."

Tim's eyes went back to the ceiling.

"I could see that it had changed. Janssen wanted to hurt me. I don't know why, but he did. There was something going on that I didn't understand." His eyes flicked back onto Director Connors. "This wasn't an accident. It was calculated. If you want to see what a sociopath looks like...you should look in his eyes."

"Are you sure that's not an exaggeration, Agent McGee? What he did _is_ serious, and it's going to be treated as such, but..."

"No!" Tim said with unexpected fire. "I don't know his reasons, but Janssen would have been happy to kill me. He had it in for me from the first moment he got here. I could have sat in the same place without moving for days and he still would have found something to hate about me. He said that I could never be far enough away from him...and he meant it. I am _not_ exaggerating. It's your choice and the FBI's choice about what to do with him, but he belongs in a cell, not carrying a badge."

Tim was shaking, whether with fear or with anger, Director Connors wasn't sure. This was the side of Tim that made people nervous. Whether he was right or wrong, his manner of expressing it made him appear rather unstable.

"I've seen the worst people can be. I've _been_ the worst people can be, Director Connors. The difference is that I took steps to overcome it. Janssen hasn't."

"So what exactly happened?"

"I was sitting on the bleachers, waiting for the next class to start. Janssen came in. There were others around with him. He threatened me and I tried to get out of it. He hit me. He punched me right in the face. No warning. No reason beyond the fact that my existence offends him. No one tried to help. No one warned me. No one tried to stop him. I fell all the way to the floor. When I hit the ground, no one tried to help until Lucy Cronin came over."

Once again, his eyes moved off Director Connors and to the ceiling.

"I was in it alone, like I always am. I have gone through every hoop set up for me without complaint. I have tried my best, but it seems like there's always someone or something waiting to knock me to the ground."

One last time, Tim looked at Director Connors.

"I am _not_ giving this up. I don't care how many of you want me out. I'm qualified to be here." He shook his head. "I just wish that I didn't have to fight like this every time I took a step."

As if exhausted by speaking, Tim dropped his head back to the bed and resumed staring at the ceiling. Director Connors could see that it was his cue to leave.

"A representative from the FBI will be coming down here to talk about what happened. He may want to deliver his personal apologies to you. I contacted Dr. Mallard and he's on his way down here."

No response.

"Janssen isn't getting away with what he did, Agent McGee. He's out of FLETC as of today, but it's up to the FBI to decide what they're going to do with him. You have the right to press charges."

"Like that ever helps." The whispered words didn't really seem to be spoken to him.

"It may seem empty, but I am sorry that this happened."

"Just a bit of _hazing_, right?"

A well-placed and well-deserved shot. Director Connors nodded and left the room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was quick to get out of DC and call in every favor he could in order to get down to Glynco. Director Connors' summation of Tim's state made him worried. Why this? Why now when things had been going so well for Tim? ...but then, _had_ they been going as well as Tim had said they were? Ducky now wondered. Tim had mentioned that there were a couple of people giving him grief, but had never intimated that it was going so far as physical assault. He _had_ mentioned Director Connors' rather unimpressive directive.

But this...it had come out of the blue as far as Ducky was concerned.

When he arrived at the hospital, it was later in the evening, but early enough to visit. He walked into Tim's room without delay.

Tim was lying on the bed, awake and staring at the ceiling. Just breathing. He had a black eye, stitches running across his cheek and around the outside of his eye. Tim just had a defeated look about him...and that was discouraging.

"Timothy?" Ducky asked softly.

Tim didn't respond.

Ducky sighed. It was certainly incredibly unfair that this had happened. He sat down beside Tim.

"I'm so sorry this happened, lad. I came as soon as I heard."

Still nothing.

"You are not in the wrong, Timothy. No one thinks you are."

That got a reaction. Not the one he'd hoped for, but a reaction.

Tim laughed bitterly. "Oh, there are people who think I am, Ducky. Just not the ones in positions of authority. The ones who take action do. The ones who don't...they just sit there and let it happen."

Tim didn't look away from the ceiling.

"Are you second guessing your decision?"

"No! No, this is what I want!" A plaintive note entered Tim's voice, and Ducky was relieved to hear it. Finding the balance between Tim's anger and his hurt was hard to do, but they'd been managing all right. This was the first time in a while that he'd started edging toward the extremes...and still he wouldn't look away from the ceiling.

"Then, what is it, Timothy? Talk to me."

Tim was very still for a moment and then he took a deep breath and let it out quickly.

"Why does this keep happening? Why do I keep getting knocked down when I'm trying to make things right again? I didn't do anything, Ducky! I didn't put myself forward as God's gift to man. I kept my head down and talked to the teachers after class rather than draw attention to myself in class. What more could I have done?"

Ducky reached out and took hold of Tim's hand. It was stiff and cold.

"Nothing, lad. Sometimes, you do your best, but you can't change human nature. You can't change what _others_ have decided. You just have to go on and try your best."

"And when that's not enough? What then? He could have killed me, Ducky. ...and over nothing! It wasn't even like..." He stopped.

"Like Julia Westin?"

Tim nodded silently.

"You did not deserve what happened to you then, either."

"I know...but still...it happened, and..."

"Timothy, look at me."

Tim shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Look at me, Timothy," Ducky said again.

Slowly, Tim turned and looked at Ducky...and what he had been trying to fight came out.

He started to cry...or at least, his eyes teared up and he struggled to keep from breaking down. Ducky got up and sat down beside him, putting a gentle arm around his shoulders.

"It's all right to be discouraged, lad. You certainly have the right to be. You even have the right to be angry about the treatment you've suffered. Don't hide from perfectly legitimate emotions."

Tim didn't actually start crying but he did relax a bit.

"I'm just so tired of this happening, Ducky."

"I understand. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not quitting."

"Good."

Tim wiped at his eyes.

"I'm not...happy about what happened."

"I'm sure."

"I'm going back as soon as I can get out of here. I want everyone to _see_ what happened to me because they did nothing."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes. It can't be covered up and the reason it always worked, every single time was because people could look the other way...and I let them." Tim sniffed. "I'm not going to let them this time. If they're going to try to ignore it, they're going to have to look away from me and not ever look back because this isn't going away. The black eye will heal eventually. The stitches will be taken out...but I'll have the scars on my face...and they'll know that they either helped it happen or else did nothing to stop it from happening. One person speaking up is all it would have taken."

"Perhaps...but perhaps not. It's not always so simple."

"Maybe."

"Is this about them or is that you're afraid that this really _is_ your fault?"

Tim smiled a little. "Half and half?"

Ducky chuckled softly. "Understandable. It is not your fault, and you have a chance now to make a difference if you wish to."

"I can't change people."

"That's right. You can't, but you _can_ allow them to change should they wish to...as you've been changing. Do you want to allow them?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "Part of me wants to...let them rot...even if I know that's not what will happen logically. I know that this matters more to me than it does to them. It's just not fair."

"No. It's not."

Tim took another breath and let it out.

"Did you know that someone, probably Janssen, broke into my room?"

"Really? You never mentioned it."

"Whoever it was..." Tim shook his head and smiled slightly. "...he took the teddy bear that Dr. Lewis gave me. Shouldn't matter, and I don't use it very often anymore, but...but it was _mine_! It was mine and it's gone. ...but it's a hard thing to admit means something. It's a stuffed animal! I just couldn't...say it to anyone."

"But you regret that it's gone."

"Yeah."

Ducky nodded.

"You're going to finish."

"Yes."

"And you'll exceed expectations."

Tim laughed. "I don't need building up right now, Ducky."

"Yes, you do. You're feeling down, discouraged and wondering what you've done wrong. You think that you should have been able to anticipate what happened today, even if it wasn't possible. You need building up."

Tim laughed again.

"So...now, you have something else to decide."

"What's that?"

"Are you pressing charges?"

"I want to...but no, I don't want to go through a trial. I don't want to have the attention it would require. The trial..._the_ trial. That was bad enough...and there's an appeal in progress. I didn't have to testify the first time, but I might have to in the appeal...if it's granted. There's too much attention on me already. I don't want more."

"All right."

"As long as he doesn't get away with it."

"I don't think he will."

Tim nodded.

"Is it okay to be tired of all the ripples from what I did? It's the choice I made. It's the consequences...but I never thought they'd last so long. They don't seem to have an end."

"It's okay, but I think you'll find that the ripples, both good and bad, will go on."

"Great," Tim said, laying his head back on the pillow.

"For now, just focus on recovering."

"Will do. I want things to be easy again, Ducky."

"I think they _will_ get easier as you go along."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it."

"Just relax for now. You're not alone, nor friendless."

Tim's voice choked up again.

"Just one friend. That's all I ever wanted."

"You always have _more_ than one friend, Timothy."

"Thanks, Ducky."

Ducky sat with Tim for a little while longer and then left him to rest. The crisis had been confronted and passed. While things weren't wonderful, they were better.

However, there was something that needed addressing...and quickly. Tim's private space had been invaded. His possessions taken. That required an intervention.

Now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The door to the office was closed, but a raised voice could be heard through it, nevertheless. An angry voice that was sounding more and more Scottish as the diatribe continued.

"Glad that's not me."

"Still might be, you know."

"Hey, I don't hire _anyone_, let alone take responsibility for every guy with a loose screw."

"Why are you here then?"

"I...may have volunteered."

"_May_ have?"

"Okay, okay, I did. _You_ didn't have to come, though."

"You didn't have to tell me about it..._or _offer me a ride."

"Yeah, I did. If I hadn't, you would have pouted and I hate seeing you pout. It makes my life difficult."

A chuckle.

"Why are you _really_ here?"

"I need to be."

"You could go and see the guy, you know."

"No. Not until he's out. He needs the option of saying no."

The angry voice lowered to inaudibility for a few moments before once again soaring to a shout.

"I'm _really_ glad it's not me."

"I still say that it could be."

"That's because you're vindictive and don't care about who's _actually_ responsible so long as you can vent your spleen on _someone_."

"Vent my spleen?"

"I read it somewhere. Maybe Diane said it to me."

Another chuckle.

"Maybe."

A period of silence while they both basked in the fact that they weren't being yelled at.

"So...why _did_ you volunteer?"

"I've...kept tabs on the kid for the last little while. Was glad to see that he was getting back on the horse after all that happened."

"And you called me because–?"

"Because you'd feel responsible for him."

The door opened...revealing Dr. Donald Mallard, his face flushed, his expression outraged. The outrage turned to surprise for a moment.

"Jethro...Agent Fornell. Whatever are you two doing here?"

"Listening to you read the riot act to someone else," Fornell said with a smile.

"Director Connors. I feel that he dropped the ball in dealing with Timothy's situation. His preeminent direction was that Timothy had to deal with minor things by himself. So Timothy didn't report theft. He didn't report the man who dogged his steps. ...and when that man attacked him, he was left to deal with it alone. It is inexcusable...as I told him already."

"Very forcefully," Gibbs said with a smile.

Ducky smiled for a moment, but then grimaced and skewered Fornell with a glare. "Not forcefully enough. This _criminal_ was supposed to be a candidate for the FBI."

"I've never met the guy, Ducky!" Fornell said. "I'm down here to talk to him and report to other people who will make the decision about what to do."

"He should be _fired_! He tormented Timothy from day one, stole from him and could have _killed_ him! This is not someone you should merely _talk_ to."

Fornell held up his hands to fend off Ducky's accusations.

"I'm not only talking to him, but everyone, even Janssen, gets a hearing, Dr. Mallard...and you know that."

"A _hearing_," Ducky said. "I've never been so angry at a human being before. I would much rather turn him over to Abigail's tender mercies."

"How _is_ McGee doing?" Fornell asked.

"He is...it could have been worse. He's discouraged, naturally, because his efforts are being attacked rather than lauded. ...but he's not giving up."

"That's good," Fornell said. "I'd hate to see this turn into a reason for his giving up."

"Turn into a reason?" Ducky asked, incensed anew. "Timothy could have been _killed_, Agent Fornell. A lesser man _would_ have given up with no blame to him! I don't know what you were told, but it was only _luck_ that Timothy survived at all. Janssen's cowardly attack caused Timothy to fall down the bleachers to the gym floor. He has stitches on his cheek and around his eye. He has large bruises on his leg and shoulder from hitting the various steps. With _no_ assistance from _anyone_! He has not let a _very good reason_ for leaving cause him to quit. And you would turn it into an excuse? That is shameful thinking, Agent Fornell."

Fornell was clearly surprised by Ducky's response.

"Hey! I wasn't saying anything like that, Dr. Mallard! I don't _want_ the kid to give up! I'm here voluntarily."

"Then, you can ask this paragon of virtue where he has put Timothy's possession which he stole," Ducky said, his voice fairly dripping with sarcasm.

"What possession would _that_ be?"

"Nothing of value to anyone but Timothy. It is a gift given to him by his psychiatrist at a very low point in his treatment. He has kept it since that time...only to have it _stolen_ from him by a man not worth being scraped off my shoe!"

"But McGee's going to be okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes...but if I can possibly bring it about, his attacker will _not_ be. I was trying to convince Director Connors to let me speak with this _Janssen_ character, but he has refused until the FBI has spoken to him." Again, he glared at Fornell.

Fornell had never seen Ducky this infuriated before...but beneath all the anger, he could see fear...fear of what had _almost_ happened, and fear of what _might_ happen in the future.

"Is Agent McGee certain it was Janssen who took it?"

"Not totally, no, but Janssen has been the ringleader in all of Timothy's torment in the past."

Fornell nodded...and decided to change his plans a bit.

"Dr. Mallard, would you mind if I talked to Agent McGee before I talked to Janssen? I have an appointment with Director Connors first, but I'd like to hear Agent McGee's account."

"It's Timothy's choice, not mine, but I won't try to stop you." Ducky managed a smile.

"Thank you," Fornell said and smiled in reply.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting up in bed, thinking about how utterly isolated he felt. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong. The fact that he could think that...and believe it was pretty significant. Whatever Janssen's reasons had been, they didn't have anything to do with what Tim had done at FLETC. He had made his decision without any need for input from Tim.

It was so discouraging. If Ducky hadn't come by, he might have given in to the desire to completely disconnect from the world around him. It would be so much easier to give up. Give up as he'd done before...but he knew that his method of disconnecting wasn't the best.

...but why did this stuff keep happening? His life couldn't be any more difficult if someone had _planned_ all this.

He sighed deeply and gently fingered the stitches on his face and felt his throat tighten...and tears come to his eyes. He closed them and shook his head, determined _not_ to start crying.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his worsening mood.

"Yeah?"

The person who came in was the last person he would have expected. ...well, maybe not the _last_, but he wasn't on the list.

"Agent Fornell?" he asked.

"Hello, Agent McGee."

Tim looked behind him, wondering what the joke was.

"What...are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"About what?"

"Janssen."

Tim looked down. "Oh."

"You mind?"

"No. What do you want to know?"

"What happened. I'm responsible for getting things moving on this."

"Why you?"

"Luck of the draw. Can you tell me what happened?"

Tim shrugged. "Janssen found my existence offensive. Nothing I could do to change that, but he wouldn't leave _me_ alone either. Yesterday, he came after me in the gym. We exchanged words as usual, but it seemed different."

"Why?"

"Because he was...he had a reason yesterday for what he was doing. He was going into it...wanting to hurt me, it seemed. Maybe I'm crazy. I have been before, but...he felt no remorse for anything that he did. I wasn't ready for him to physically attack. He never had before. As I was walking down the bleachers, he hit me. I lost my balance and fell down the bleachers. No one helped until one of the other students finally got her head together and tried to help me. If I'd been killed, he would have been happy about it. I'm not kidding. I'm not exaggerating. Janssen wanted me dead."

Fornell only nodded and sat silently for a few minutes.

"What about the rest of it?"

"Rest of what?"

"The rest of what Janssen was doing to you."

"Nothing big."

"It culminated in something that could have killed you, Agent McGee."

"Just minor things. It was like...I never left high school...or rather, that _he'd_ never left high school. It was ridiculous. He'd kick over my bag. Try to humiliate me in front of the other students. He accused me of being too smart."

"And he broke into your room and stole something of yours?"

"You talked to Ducky," Tim said.

"Yes, I did. What did he take?"

"I don't know that it _was_ him, but it seems likely."

"What did he take?"

"It wasn't anything of any value."

"Agent McGee, what was stolen from you?"

Tim couldn't meet Fornell's gaze as he explained. "When I was in the mental hospital...I had a hard time sleeping. They had me on sleeping pills for a while because the nightmares were so bad. When they stopped the pills, I'd go through periods where the nightmares scared me so much that I wouldn't go to sleep. I couldn't face...what I'd see in my dreams. So...Dr. Lewis...he gave me a green teddy bear, something to hold onto when I was afraid. I don't use it so much anymore, but...someone stole it."

There was no response, and Tim couldn't lift his eyes.

"You're not pressing charges?"

"No...and not because I'm noble, either."

"Then, why?"

"Because I don't want attention, not for _any_ reason. I just want to fade into the background and go about living my life without people noticing me. I want to be just another face in the crowd."

No direct response to that either.

"Bottom line, Agent McGee. What do you hope comes of all this?"

Now, Tim felt he could raise his eyes. He didn't see any derision in Fornell's gaze.

"Janssen is nuts...not like I was nuts. He has some grudge against me that I couldn't figure out. He shouldn't be in a position of power over _anyone_."

"Okay. I'll be talking to him today. He's already been kicked out of FLETC. We'll see about the FBI."

Tim nodded and watched as Fornell started to leave, but something made him call out.

"Agent Fornell!"

He stopped and turned back.

"Yeah?"

"Why you? Really. Why?"

Fornell smiled. "Because, believe it or not, kid, a lot of people are pulling for you to succeed. I don't like what happened to you."

Then, he left. No specifics about _who_ might be pulling for him, but...a lot of people? Really? Tim leaned his head back and pondered on that strange concept. People wanting him to succeed instead of fail. It wasn't something he had considered a possibility. Oh, a person here and there, but a _lot_?

Somehow, it was easier to go to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell didn't go straight to where Janssen was being detained. Instead, he got access to Janssen's room. Inside, he did a search. There wasn't a whole lot to find...but the one thing he _did_ find made him angry.

In the back of the bedroom closet, he found a teddy bear. Green. ...and torn to shreds. It was as if Janssen had taken a knife to it and tried to make sure no one could possibly repair it.

Why? That was the big question. Why would anyone form such a deep hatred of Tim...when Tim had, by _all_ accounts, never put himself above anyone. His desire to be unnoticed was telling about his behavior. It was sad, but it was understandable. Tim had been under a lot of scrutiny. It made sense that he'd like to avoid that now as much as possible.

So...why? He took the bear in his hands and headed off to figure it out. Janssen might need some persuading, but Fornell figured he had a couple of very good persuaders.

He smiled, almost in anticipation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Now, Gibbs, my lead. Got it?" Fornell asked.

"Depends."

Fornell shook his head firmly. "No. My lead or you don't come in. I'm in charge here. My lead."

Gibbs nodded. "All right. Your lead. How do you want to play it?"

"We're starting off nice. See if he admits to everything. I think, if he's really as crazy as McGee says he is, all we'll have to do is push a little bit to get him to go off."

"I've seen crazy people who pull off the innocent act for a lot longer. So have you."

Fornell smiled grimly. "This guy isn't committing murder and eating toes."

"He only didn't commit murder by accident."

Fornell rolled his eyes. "Can you behave yourself or not, Gibbs?"

Gibbs leaned over and snatched the destroyed bear from Fornell's hand.

"Are you going to talk about _this_?"

"Yes, Jethro!" Fornell said in exasperation. "You keep treating me like the bad guy! I wasn't a part of this! I'm doing my job, and I'm on McGee's side. What more are you expecting?"

"That this guy is going to get what he deserves."

"Why do you think I have you here and am letting Ducky observe?"

"What are you waiting for then?"

Another roll of the eyes and Fornell opened the door.

"Hello," Fornell said pleasantly as he walked into the room. "Theodore Janssen?"

Janssen nodded, looking a bit nervous.

"I'm FBI Agent Tobias Fornell. This is NCIS Agent Jethro Gibbs. We're here to evaluate what happened and then decide on the recommended consequences."

"I already said, Agent Fornell...It was an accident. I just...lost my head for a second. I feel really bad about what I did. Agent McGee is going to be all right, isn't he?"

"Agent Gibbs?" Fornell asked, raising his eyes in warning.

"He's going to recover."

"Good. I'm glad," Janssen said.

It was interesting as far as Fornell was concerned. Janssen was very good at what he was doing. Perfect. He knew very well that Tim had never reported anything on him...which meant that there was no record...which he assumed meant that this would be seen as an isolated incident which wouldn't have extreme consequences.

In other circumstances, he would do a great job undercover...but not when he was attacking people on his own side.

"Are you?" Fornell asked.

"Of course! I said...I was just...I got frustrated. If I had thought..."

"If you had _thought_, you wouldn't have tormented him for the entire time you've been here?" Fornell asked.

"I don't know what you're..."

"You wouldn't have made a habit of verbally attacking him every time you crossed paths?" Fornell asked.

"Sir?"

Fornell brought out his smoking gun. He pulled the destroyed teddy bear out and tossed it negligently on the table.

"You wouldn't have broken into his room and stolen and destroyed his property?"

Then, Fornell saw it. Just for a moment. It was the barest flicker in his expression, but Janssen's eyes flashed from guilt to outright hatred...just for a second. Then, the look was gone. He said nothing.

"Anything to say?"

"It's just a stupid teddy bear," Janssen said, but his voice was thick with emotion now.

"If so, why did you take the time to break in and steal it? Why destroy it? If it means nothing, then, why did you take it?"

Fornell felt Gibbs stir beside him, but he shook his head slightly. This was _his_ interview. Gibbs might be good at his job, but so was Fornell and he wanted to establish the fact that he had authority over Janssen. He didn't defer to Gibbs in FBI business.

Janssen said nothing.

"You don't seem to realize just how much trouble you're in, Janssen. You've already been kicked out of FLETC for your little _accident_. You're lucky that Agent McGee didn't die. Even if none of your other little childish antics were physical in nature, your attack was apparently _not_ spur-of-the-moment. According to Agent McGee, you purposefully sought him out. According to some of the other witnesses, you didn't act upset after you hit him. You and your little cronies ran away, leaving an injured man on the ground. Not exactly the actions of someone who let his _idiocy_ get the best of him." Fornell was using as disdainful language as he could without blatantly calling Janssen out, but he could see him tensing up throughout the harangue. He felt this was unjust. "You assaulted an NCIS agent without cause. You'll be lucky if we let you go on. We don't have any use for guys who go off half-cocked and attack one of their own."

"He deserved it!" Janssen finally burst out, his control gone.

"Deserved it?" Fornell asked. He looked at Gibbs, finally inviting him to join in. "Your agent apparently deserved the attack, Agent Gibbs. I'm interested to know why. Are you?"

"Very interested," Gibbs said, his voice cold.

"Tell us, Janssen," Fornell said. "What is it that Agent McGee did to deserve your attack?"

"He doesn't deserve to be called an _agent_!" Janssen said, almost shouting. "He should never have been allowed back! The crazy psycho. He wasn't crazy when he went to the loony bin. Everyone knows he was. It was all over the papers during the trial. He's a _criminal_! McGee is a _murderer_! It's just been swept under the rug by people like _him_!" He pointed at Gibbs. "They don't want everyone to think about it, but some of us can't _help_ it! What I did?" He scoffed. "That was nothing like what he deserves."

"What did Agent McGee do?" Fornell asked.

"It was all over in the trial, only it was forgotten by _both_ sides. No one wants to think about all the people who died while _Agent_ McGee was undercover, while he was helping those scum-sucking... He _knew_ where the drugs were going. He _knew_ who'd be using them...and he didn't do _anything_ to stop them! How many people died of those drugs he _helped_ move around? How many? I'll tell you how many. Too many. Even _one_ would have been too many."

"Seems like it's only one you care about," Fornell said mildly.

"I joined the FBI to stop scum like McGee from getting away with murder! My brother didn't know what he was getting, but McGee _knew_! He knew it and he did nothing to stop it! As soon as I saw McGee here and realized who he was... My brother was only _one_ of the people McGee killed."

"Killed?"

"Yes!" Janssen said, furiously. "He's as guilty as if he made and sold the drugs himself! Anything he suffers could never be enough. If he'd stuck to whatever rock he'd crawled under with the rest of the scum, I'd have let him scrape out whatever existence he could...not at NCIS. Not as a federal agent who's supposed to uphold the law! He carries around that stupid teddy bear as if that makes everything better. He lost his mind so that other people finally noticed and locked him away...and he kept a memento of it! Well, bully for him! That doesn't change anything! If I'd killed him, good riddance! This world is better off without people like _him_!"

Fornell looked at Gibbs, giving him permission to take over. Gibbs leaned forward across the table.

"Clearly, the hiring committee at NCIS didn't agree with you. Agent McGee went through every step required."

"It was rigged! You people always cover for each other...even when the guy kicks you in the teeth."

"So...your brother was dumb enough to use drugs and that's Agent McGee's fault?"

"Ecstasy is illegal and it's stupid to use it, but people don't usually die from it! My brother died!"

"Again, how is your brother's bad decision Agent McGee's fault?"

Janssen laughed in Gibbs' face. "Yep. Figured. Turn it around on the victim. That's how you work, isn't it. When I was growing up, I thought it would be great to work for NCIS. My brother joined the Navy, but you're all stupid, blind...insular. NCIS is a hotbed of corruption way worse than you find in the bigger agencies."

Gibbs scooted forward. "Corruption? Like committing murder? Like attacking someone without giving them a chance to defend themselves? What kind of corruption do you think we have...that you haven't already done?"

"I didn't kill anyone."

"But you wish you had. You were just waiting for an opportunity like this, weren't you. You were hoping there would be a time when you could possibly kill him and have it look like an accident."

He stood up and got so close to Janssen that he could whisper in his ear.

"You should count yourself lucky that Agent McGee survived. ...because, while you are a miserable failure at protecting _your_ brother and getting justice for him, _I_ would have succeeded...and not as an NCIS agent. I don't hide behind a badge when _I'm_ getting revenge."

He sat down and looked Janssen in the eye, letting him see the icy blue orbs which would tell him that this wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

"That's all I have to say, Agent Fornell."

"Good," Fornell said. He turned back to Janssen who was momentarily subdued. He decided that it was time to deliver the final blow.

"You've been kicked out of FLETC, Janssen, but that's the least of your worries. Hearing what you've said and getting accounts from Agent McGee and the witnesses of your baseless attack, I'm going to strongly recommend to my superiors that you be fired from the FBI with a note that will be shared with any other federal agency you might choose to apply to for employment that you are not suitable for their needs. We don't need people like you who ignore reality and choose to attack someone without cause. Agent McGee may have made mistakes, but he has admitted to them and gone through every step to fix them. You, on the other hand, don't even seem to realize that you have a problem and that makes you much more dangerous than Agent McGee ever could be. I recommend that you get therapy."

Janssen had a disbelieving look on his face, but Fornell didn't give him a chance to say anything. He stood up, picking up the teddy bear as he did. Gibbs followed suit.

"The only reason you're not in prison right now, Janssen, is because Agent McGee has chosen _not_ to press charges. You owe him your freedom. Think about that."

They walked out of the room...and into Ducky.

"Give it to me."

"Dr. Mallard," Fornell said, not really thinking he could stop Ducky, but making a feeble effort.

"Give me the teddy bear, Agent Fornell," Ducky said, his voice almost flinty.

Fornell sighed and handed it over. Then, he stood aside.

"No violence, please, Dr. Mallard."

"I offer none." Then, he strode by Fornell into the room where Janssen was getting up.

Fornell and Gibbs took up positions where they could hear without being seen to be eavesdropping.

"Sit down," Ducky said. He sounded as stern as any military commander. No option of disobedience.

"Who are _you_?"

"Agent McGee happens to be a close friend of mine."

"Great. Get out of my way."

"I don't think so. I will say what I have to say, first. You are a despicable human being. You tarnish the memory of your brother who died by justifying your actions with his death. I would be ashamed to know you. Your attitude disgusts me." He thrust the teddy bear into Janssen's face. "This is a true reflection of who you are. A destroyer. I have nothing more to say...and I have no interest in hearing another word you might have to say."

Ducky turned and strode out. Janssen shouted after him.

"Yeah, a real big man! You're defending a murderer! I disgust you? You disgust _me_!"

Ducky didn't pause, even as Janssen continued shouting after him. He looked at Fornell and Gibbs only briefly before continuing on his way. He didn't dignify Janssen's ranting in any way. Fornell decided to just shut the door, cutting Janssen off.

"Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm going back to the hospital, Jethro. If and when you come by, do _not_ mention that _sick_ man. He is saying some of the worst things Timothy has only just managed to stop thinking about _himself_. He does _not_ need to know Janssen has any relation to one of the unfortunate souls who died during that time."

"Fine."

"Agent Fornell?"

"I won't say anything. I don't have a reason to!"

"Good. I'll leave him to you. Will your superiors accept your recommendation?"

"Yes...because I'll threaten them with a visit from you if they don't."

For a moment, Fornell wasn't sure Ducky would take the joke well, but then he smiled.

"It's a valid threat."

"I know."

"What now?"

"Now, since McGee isn't pressing charges, he'll simply be sent home."

"I wish he wouldn't."

"So do I, but it's McGee's choice. You get him to change his mind, fine by me."

"All right. Agent Fornell?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Fornell smiled. "My pleasure. I hope McGee gets back all right. He's had a lot of problems. This shouldn't have been one of them."

"I agree completely. Jethro, will you be coming?"

"Ask him if he's interested."

Ducky smiled. "I will. He will probably be happy for the positive attention."

"Keep telling yourself that, Duck."

"Timothy has changed more than you might think, Jethro." He paused. "He's getting to be more like that piece of art you created for him."

Gibbs smiled in reply.

"Still wrapped in plastic and unused, but with possibilities for future development."

"Nice metaphor."

"I've been practicing," Ducky said and then left.

"Well?" Fornell asked.

"I hope it's over, but I'm afraid it won't be."

"With something like this, is it ever?"

Gibbs sighed. "Probably not. I'm leaving before Janssen does. I'll kill him if I see him again."

"Me, too. Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Ducky looked at the teddy bear. It was so unfortunate that Janssen had chosen to destroy it so thoroughly. He couldn't hide this from Tim, but he wished that he could. For all his problems, Tim wasn't stupid, and he would see in this a personal attack...more personal, in its way, than the physical assault had been. He would know that Janssen had a reason for it...and he might insist that Ducky tell him what he knew...and if he did that, Ducky was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to keep it from him.

Well, best to let the chips fall where they may. He took a breath and stepped into the room.

Tim was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his pants.

"Timothy...you're leaving already?"

Tim was startled and nearly fell over.

"Ducky...I..." He looked down and then finished putting on his pants. "...yeah, I'm trying to get them to release me. I don't want to miss class tomorrow."

"Timothy, you can take a day."

"No, I can't. I'm not going to miss anything that I don't have to miss. I might be off-balance a bit, but I can sit in a room and listen."

"Timothy."

"No. Ducky," Tim said.

"Why?"

"I have already lost two years of my life," Tim said. "I almost lost everything. I'm not going to let anything...or anyone make me lose any more of it. I can't."

Tim stood before Ducky, still in his hospital gown...with his pants on. Ducky put his hands on Tim's shoulders and shook him gently.

"You aren't to blame for this, Timothy," he said with a smile. "You want to go back and finish at FLETC. That's wonderful, but don't feel that you have to push or _punish_ yourself."

"Ducky, I...I'm afraid of...of losing what I've got."

"You won't."

Tim sank down onto the bed. He was quiet for a few seconds and he stared at the floor.

"What happened with Janssen?"

"Agent Fornell is going to recommend that he be fired from the FBI completely...strongly recommend. He was disgusted by what happened."

"Disgusted? He didn't show that to me."

"That was before he...found your teddy bear."

"He found it?" Tim asked.

The hope in his voice made Ducky's heart hurt.

"Yes. He found it."

Tim's face fell.

"What's wrong?"

Ducky pulled out the remains and held them out. Tim stared at the shredded plush fur, the stuffing that was spilling out, the missing eyes and ear. He looked at Ducky for a moment and then held out his hands. Reluctantly, Ducky passed the bear over.

"Janssen did this?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Why?"

"So that you could never have it back, even if it was found."

Tim licked his lips and started clicking his molars together.

"Why would he do this?"

"He didn't like you, Timothy."

Tim looked at Ducky. "No. That's not what this is. This is...revenge, Ducky. ...and you know why, don't you."

Ducky wasn't sure when he had ever felt so old.

"Yes. I do."

"Why?"

"It's not necessary for you to know."

"Yes, it is. You know it is, Ducky. I can see it in your eyes that you don't want to tell me, but you know that I can't just accept that. Why? Why did he do this?"

Ducky sat down beside Tim and patted his knee.

"One of the..." He paused. How to tell this so as to cause the least amount of anguish to a man who'd already suffered enough for a lifetime? "...Janssen had a brother...who died from taking Ecstasy."

Tim swallowed audibly.

"Laced with...PMA?"

"Yes."

"A couple of years ago?"

"Yes."

The silence in the room was absolute. Ducky couldn't even hear Tim breathing. For a few seconds, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"He...blames me...for his brother's death?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"He really wanted to kill me, then."

"Yes."

"So...the real accident was that I survived."

"It looks that way...from his perspective at least."

Tim looked at the teddy bear and then set it on the bed. He stood up and turned away.

"Ducky...I need to...finish changing so that I can check out. Could you wait outside?"

"Timothy..."

"Please. Wait outside."

"Timothy, he's wrong. Don't forget that."

Tim didn't reply. He didn't turn around either. Ducky didn't push it. He withdrew to the hallway and hoped that all the wonderful strides Tim had taken hadn't just been wiped away. He was glad that _he_ had been the one to reveal Janssen's reason for his hatred, but he hated that it had been necessary at all. Still...

"What are you doing out in the hall, Ducky?"

"Jethro, I thought you wanted me to ask Timothy about your visiting."

Gibbs shrugged. "I figured that it would be better if I just asked him myself."

"Perhaps."

"What's wrong?"

"I told him about Janssen."

"I thought you didn't want to do that."

"I didn't, but Timothy insisted...and lying to him would have been worse."

"And now?"

"Now...he's in that room trying to process it. He asked me to leave and wait out here."

Gibbs nodded, paused for a moment, as if he was considering what to do, and then walked over and knocked politely on the door.

"What, Ducky?" came a dull voice.

"It's Gibbs. Can I come in?"

A long pause. Very long. Gibbs looked at Ducky...who just shrugged in response to the unasked question. He had no idea whether Tim would let Gibbs in or not. He might...just out of surprise...or resignation.

"Come in."

Resignation. Ducky smiled at that, and he could tell that Gibbs had twigged to the emotion, but he stepped inside, leaving Ducky alone in the hallway. He probably could have go in himself, but he rather thought that this would be a conversation that would be worthwhile to keep private. Tim was very open with Ducky, but there may be things he would prefer to discuss with Gibbs, given the opportunity.

Ducky was willing to wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was quietly sitting on his bed when Gibbs came in. He was _very_ quiet.

"Sorry about that, McGee," Gibbs said, pointing to the bear.

"Just a toy. Doesn't really matter."

Gibbs smiled. "Yes, it does...even if you're going to pretend it doesn't mean anything to you, it _does_ mean something to Janssen, and you know it."

Tim lifted his eyes to Gibbs' face.

"And what are you saying? That I'm wrong about not pressing charges?"

"Among other things, yes. It's a big mistake."

"I don't care."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to go through another trial. I don't want to have what I did and what I chose...and what happened paraded around for people to gawk at. I don't want any of it. He has the right to be angry with me."

"This went _way_ beyond anger, McGee."

"It has to stop somewhere."

"What does?"

"Revenge. Payback. It has to stop. I was instrumental in the death of his brother. He wanted to kill me. I put him in prison. Someone else in his family resents me for it. Where does it end? Huh? Where? I'm stopping it right here. Janssen isn't going to ruin me."

"He might take it into his head to try to kill you more directly."

"Let him try. I'm not doing it, Gibbs. It's not going to happen. So give it up."

"And what about that?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the bear.

"I'll throw it away. What else do you think would happen? One of the eyes is gone. One of the ears is gone. It's been torn to pieces. What else would I do with it? It's not worth fixing."

Gibbs could hear the unspoken words in this rather loaded conversation.

"I've heard something like that before."

To his surprise, Tim smiled. It was a bit humorless, true, but it was a smile.

"This isn't a metaphor for myself, Gibbs. This is a ruined toy. A comfort object that I can't use any longer. I'm an adult. I'll live with it." He paused. "Why did you come down here?"

"To make sure things went right. Fornell called me and told him he was coming. Offered me a ride."

"But why?"

"Better me than Abby who would have killed the guy outright."

"Don't know about that. From what you seem to think, maybe she would have been a good choice."

Gibbs smiled. "Maybe you're right."

"Why are you really here?"

"When I heard what happened, I wanted to check on you...make sure you were okay."

"I am. I'm fine. I'm going back to class tomorrow and everyone is going to see the results of what happened. Janssen will be gone, and I'll be scarred." Tim had a look on his face that was less determination than it was carefully-controlled anger and hurt.

"And that's what you want?"

Tim's eyes changed. The anger was gone, leaving hurt and a bit of confusion in its wake.

"Want?" he asked, almost outraged at the question. "What makes you think I want _any_ of this? I don't _want_ anything that's happened today. I didn't _want_ to become the focus of Janssen's loathing. I didn't _want_ to discover just how little everyone at FLETC cares about me. I didn't _want_ to have my property taken and destroyed. ...but it's what I have, and I'm not letting anyone pretend that nothing happened. I'm not going to slink away with my tail between my legs and give up. I'm not. I have worked too hard to get all this back. One incident, no matter how serious, is going to ruin it for me. If you want me to give up, don't bother sticking around."

"What gave you that idea?" Gibbs asked. "...or is it that you're afraid of feeling that way yourself?"

Tim turned away from him.

"Tim?"

Tim took a deep breath and rubbed at his shoulder.

"They used to try to shove me into the lockers...when I was in high school," he said softly. "I was over six feet tall and still they tried. If it had just been one-on-one, I could have handled it. I could have fought back, but it was never just one. I can't count the number of times I came home from school with bruises from that little high school _joke_. I just kept taking it and taking it, all the while seething inside at my own helplessness, at how little control I had over my own life." He turned back around. "I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm not a child...and I'm not going to take it...and I'm not letting it make me bitter again. I'll finish this program...and I'll regret that it's so much more negative than my first experience here...but I'm not going to let it fester like I did before. I've been given another chance and I can't squander it. I may never get another."

"And you have to let Janssen get away with attempted murder?"

"No, I don't have to, but I am."

"Even knowing that he wished you were actually dead."

"Yes. Even knowing that. It's my choice. I'm not pressing charges. As far as any record is concerned, he is unfit for employment. If he wasn't getting fired, I might reconsider, but there's no reason to give him another excuse to hate me."

"I can't make the choice for you, but..."

"...but nothing," Tim said firmly. "I've made the decision and it's _my_ decision."

Gibbs didn't like it, but he had to accept that Tim was going to be stubborn about it. He'd made the choice, and even if everyone else knew it was a bad choice, Tim wasn't going to be persuaded right now.

"You ready to go, then?"

"As soon as the doctor lets me go."

"What are you going to do tonight?"

"Sleep."

Gibbs smiled. "Sounds like a good idea."

Tim returned the smile for a moment. Then, his eyes fell on the teddy bear and his smile vanished. No matter what he claimed, the destruction of the bear bothered him a lot. His doctor came in with a resigned expression but allowed that Tim didn't _have_ to stay overnight. He cautioned Tim against any real exertion for the next few days...and reluctantly signed him out.

Tim met Ducky in the hall, with the teddy bear in his hands.

"Well?"

He handed the bear to Ducky. "You can throw it away, Ducky. Won't do me any good anymore."

Ducky nodded and took it.

"I'll take you back to the campus."

"Okay."

Gibbs put a restraining hand on Ducky's arm.

"Give us a moment, please, Timothy."

Tim nodded and walked down the hall.

"What is it, Jethro?"

"He wouldn't change his mind."

Ducky sighed. "I didn't think he would, but I wish he would. This hit him hard, Jethro."

"Yeah. Saw that."

Ducky started to follow Tim.

"Hey, Duck."

"Yes?"

"Give me the bear."

Ducky furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"An idea."

"Very well." Ducky gave it to him and then left Gibbs to follow Tim out of the hospital.

Gibbs looked at the bear. Maybe Tim was refusing to see it in any metaphorical sense, but Gibbs felt that there was value in doing what he could...and maybe it would go some way toward repairing still-frayed relationships.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tim woke up the next morning feeling achy all over, with a pounding headache. When he showered, he looked at the bruises. He had a large one on his shoulder, another on his leg. His ribs hurt. All in all, in normal circumstances, he would have stayed home to recover...but he wasn't going to do that today. Today, he had a point to make. He would have had to be dead in order to miss class today. It was a point of pride, perhaps, but Tim had gone through enough in the past that pride was a rare commodity, one he wasn't willing to give up.

After he was dressed, the only injury that was obvious were the stitches and large bruise on his face. That was enough. Everyone would know why he had that bruise and who had given it to him. ...and who had _not_ done anything to help, i.e. nearly everyone else. Was there some bitterness attached to this? Right now, Tim could admit that there was. He knew that he had some problems still with that...but the fact that he acknowledged the issue existed and the fact that he was willing to take steps to avoid letting it fester was important.

With one final look at himself, he took a deep breath and headed to class...limping only slightly.

His slower pace brought him to his first class a bit late. He was relieved that it was unintentional. He still didn't want to be the focus of attention in any way. He wanted to be hidden, but still seen. Seen, but not stared at.

That wasn't going to happen this time. He swallowed and opened the door. The instructor was mid-sentence and stopped as he noticed Tim's entrance.

"Welcome back, Agent McGee," he said, sounding genuinely welcoming.

Everyone turned around and looked at him. Tim wanted to sink into the floor, but he just nodded his thanks, found an empty seat and sat down without speaking. Significant by his absence, Janssen wasn't there to lead the pack and thus, Tim had no torment during class. As was usual, he said nothing, made no comments. He just sat relatively isolated from the others and listened and worked.

At the end of the class, the instructor made eye contact with him, indicating that he should stay behind. Tim had been on the verge of standing but sank back down. Considering the ache in his leg and shoulder, he didn't mind that at all. Most of the people who filed past him avoided eye contact...but he knew they could see him. That was what he'd wanted. Awareness of how far it had gone. That was all.

The instructor walked over and sat on a chair.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Better than yesterday."

"You sure of that?"

"Physically, yes. Otherwise..." Tim shrugged.

"Why come back so soon? I can't imagine it was recommended."

"It wasn't, but doctors don't know everything."

"So why come back?"

"I needed to."

"Why, Agent McGee? What did you have to gain from it?"

"It was a chance to...do something different."

"In what way?"

Tim furrowed his brow. "Why are you asking? You haven't shown any real interest before. This has nothing to do with classes."

"You weren't willing to talk before. Not sure why not, but you weren't. Believe it or not, you're a topic of conversation."

Tim smiled a bit. "Right."

"So...what do you mean by doing something different?"

"I'm not just taking what happened and how people treat me. I'm not burying it until it festers. I'm confronting what happened and how people reacted. _They're_ the ones who have to look away. Not me. Not this time."

"I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"None of us had any idea what Janssen was capable of."

"Neither did I."

"Why not make a report of what he _had_ done?"

"Because I was instructed to deal with minor things by myself."

The instructor sighed. "Figured. I'm sorry anyway. Any of us could have done more than we did."

"No, you couldn't. I wouldn't have admitted to it being a problem."

"But any one of us could have seen it."

"It's all right. I'm used to it."

"Used to what? Assault?"

Tim shrugged again. "More or less. It's called bullying when you're young."

"Ah. I should have guessed. Doesn't seem that much different, does it."

"Nope. Feeling is the same...but I'm better equipped to deal with it now." Tim smiled. "I don't think you need to worry. The ringleader is gone and no one else will want to risk it...and Janssen already destroyed the only thing of sentimental value I brought with me. So I have nothing to lose unless I give up. ...and I'm not giving up."

"Good. We need people like you working for us. Besides, I'd hate to have to go against you when it comes to anything involving computers."

Tim smiled weakly. "I've got to get to my next class. It's across the campus and I don't want to be late again."

"You don't like the attention, do you."

"No. I've had enough attention to last the rest of my life. I'd rather hang back in the shadows."

"I don't think you should."

"Why not? Parading my abilities is what led to a lot of my problems."

"Because it's like saying that you're not worth noticing...and you're worth noticing. You have a lot of skills that people should be trying to learn."

"Not gonna happen here. I might as well be a leper and carry around a bell, warning everyone that I'm unclean." Tim got up. "Thanks for the ego boost...but I'm fine. I'm going to finish and get back to the job I want to do. I'm not letting this stop me."

"Good. ...but you can lean on other people if you want to."

"Maybe. ...but not here. Thanks." Tim smiled but left the classroom. He didn't want to worry about any other complications. He just wanted to finish and escape. Still, he had to admit that hearing someone with no real connection to him say that he was worth noticing..._was_ a bit of an ego boost.

"McGee?"

Tim paused in his slow, limping walk and looked to the side. Lucy Cronin had clearly been waiting for him outside the room.

"Hi," he said and continued on his way.

Lucy didn't let him leave her behind. She increased her pace until she caught up with him and then kept pace.

"I'm surprised you're back already."

"Are you?" Tim asked, noncommitally. He didn't look at her.

"I was really scared when you fell. I was sure you were going to be dead on impact."

"Why were you there?" Tim asked.

"I got done with my laps early." She paused. "I wasn't there with Janssen's little crew."

"Good."

"That doesn't mean much to you."

Tim stopped in his forward trek. "You helped me. I'm grateful for that."

"But it doesn't change the fact that I basically ignored you, right?"

"That's right. You weren't ever a part of all that, but you weren't a part of anything else, either." He looked at her directly. "It's easy to be there when things go more wrong than you expected. It's harder...when it's just miserable for a person without any actual danger. It's easy to ignore...and that's what everyone did. It's not...unexpected. Just disappointing. I'm not sure which was _more_ disappointing, to be honest."

"Yeah, I can see that. I don't know why it's so easy to ignore the things that happened to you. We all knew what Janssen was doing. We all knew that he'd got a few friends to go along with him. ...and we just didn't do anything about it. There's no excuse, McGee. I won't even pretend that there was a good reason. I wasn't afraid of Janssen...not until he attacked you. _That_ scared me."

Tim started walking again...and then he spoke quietly. "Me, too."

"McGee...can you forgive me for ignoring what I saw?"

"Yeah. I think so." Tim smiled a little. "I don't know you well enough to feel betrayed."

"I'll take that."

"I don't want to be late for class."

"Okay. I don't want to keep you back. I just...I didn't want to leave it too long. I've seen too many lives lost to want to put things off."

Tim nodded. He understood that feeling.

"Well...thanks for helping me."

Lucy smiled and nodded. "Anytime." She turned to go.

"Hey, Cronin."

"Yeah?' She turned back.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did everyone...basically ostracize me? Did you _all_ know who I am? ...and all hate me?"

"Not exactly."

"Then, what? Because I just don't get it. I don't understand why every single person here decided that I wasn't worth knowing...without even trying. I mean, at least when I was in college, it was my own fault that I was ignored. Here...I didn't even do anything. I've never put myself out there. I've never tried to show off. What did I do?"

"Well, Janssen knew who you were from the beginning."

Tim ignored the sick feeling he had at the mention of the man who wanted him dead.

"Yeah. I caught that. But what about everyone else? Or...forget everyone else. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. Why did _you _decide that I wasn't worth even acknowledging. I watched you all. Everyone was at least willing to chat...unless I was involved."

"We...I didn't hate you, McGee."

"Okay?"

"Why are you coming back? Everyone knows that you quit, that you had some kind of nervous breakdown, that it jeopardized the case. Why come back?"

"Because it's the job I've always wanted. If NCIS didn't have any problem with hiring me again, why do _you_?"

Lucy sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. It just seemed...selfish, I guess. Like you were forcing everyone to accept you after you rejected everyone. Like no other situation mattered, only what you wanted."

"That's not true!" Tim protested. The sheer injustice of the statement made him retort without consideration for anything other than defending himself. "I lost two years of my life...and it was mostly my own fault. I spent a _long_ time trying to figure out what I should do. I spent even longer trying to punish myself for what I'd done. Choosing to come back to NCIS was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I questioned my own decision over and over again. When I chose to do that, it was the first time that I'd thought that maybe I deserved to be happy. I made it all the way here...and I find that..." Tim laughed. "...that everyone else seems to agree that I _don't_ deserve it."

"That's not true, McGee. I've never thought that."

"But don't you see?" Tim asked. "By assuming that I was being selfish, you're really not saying anything else. You're saying that my decision was wrong...and my decision is something that could make me happy...so you're saying that I don't deserve that. ...and maybe you weren't thinking about it that way, but not a single one of you ever tried to find out what _I_ was thinking." Tim shook his head. "Janssen wanted to kill me and he left his mark." Tim pointed to his face. "...but what the rest of you thought of me is really not much better. You didn't want me dead, but you didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. You all assumed that you knew what I was thinking, that you knew what was _right_. Forgive me if I'm not impressed." Tim started walking again. "Don't worry. I won't try and insinuate myself into any of your gatherings. I'm not wanted here...but I'm not leaving." He paused and turned back. Lucy hadn't followed him this time. "Whether you think so or not, I _do_ deserve to be here. I have gone through more to get here than you could possibly imagine. You're going to have to deal with it...even if others decide that I'm an easy mark. I'm not going to be driven away. You can tell your friends that. Now...I'm late for class again, but I'm not going to miss it."

Tim turned and walked away, feeling strangely empowered by telling just one person that they were wrong about him...and doing it without losing it.

All through that day, he had people's eyes on him, covertly studying him, taking note of his injuries, seeing his limping gait. Most of his instructors stopped to apologize to him. He appreciated it, but all he wanted was to finish the day.

His original plan was to knock off early and sleep away the evening. He needed the rest, but as he walked toward his room, he glanced over at the firing range. Almost against his will, he walked over to it.

One brief stop while it was vacant...a trip down memory lane...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

James Dalton was the firearms instructor at FLETC. He had been for the last five years, and he enjoyed his job. He had taken a lot of green agents and helped them become comfortable and skilled at handling weaponry. There was always at least one student who posed a challenge, one student who would perform poorly. That student would generally either be motivated enough to drive himself to succeed or else he wouldn't meet the standards required. Oh, occasionally, there would be the odd agent who would scrape by, but those generally knew they weren't really up to snuff and would either opt for non-field positions or else would remove themselves from the program voluntarily. James had come to FLETC after twenty years in law enforcement, and he considered himself quite the expert. He had to be to do his job right.

In order to keep his own skills up, he generally came in the evenings and did some shooting on his own. He would cycle through the various firearms. It also helped him ensure that all the weapons were in proper working condition. It was rare that any of the students were there when they didn't have to be. He didn't blame them for that. They spent their days working on courses and physical fitness and any other aspect of their training. They could have the evening off. Sometimes.

...but tonight, he was surprised to see someone there. He wasn't shooting at the moment. He seemed to be in rapt contemplation of the booth.

James kept himself back. He'd just realized who it was. Timothy McGee. He hadn't spent a lot of time here. No more than necessary. His accuracy was average, but no more than that...and he seemed to hate shooting, picking up a weapon only when he had to. It was not a good reaction in an agent. ...but Tim had never shown any interest in discussing it with anyone. James didn't blame him for avoiding the other students, considering how much they seemed to resent his presence. Unfortunately, Tim had also avoided James. James had, of course, heard about what had happened the day before, and he'd been in on some of the discussions about the fact that Tim was not allowed to be a part of any of the groups, that he'd been on the receiving end of some torment. ...which was why he'd chosen to switch Tim to a different group. The last thing anyone needed was tempers flaring with loaded weapons in their hands.

Quite frankly, he was surprised to see Tim back...and to see him here of all places.

Then, he heard Tim talking to himself.

"BRASS. Breathe. Relax. Aim. Squeeze. Shoot."

James smiled to himself. The basic steps of firing a weapon. He was a bit surprised that Tim would be relying on that after ten years of experience.

...but he stood and watched. Yes, he could just leave or make his presence known, but something held him in place.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I'm never going to get this right, Jim. I'm going to get kicked out of FLETC and I'll be a laughing stock!"_

"_No, you won't, Tim. Just relax. You know how to do it. You don't need to be nervous about shooting a gun."_

"_This is about learning to possibly kill a person. How could I not be nervous?"_

"_You don't think of it that way. Think of it as protecting other people."_

"_Unless I'm wrong."_

"_Tim, don't secondguess yourself. You're here getting trained to know what to do...and you're a good agent, Tim."_

_Tim sighed._

"_Just remember: BRASS."_

_Tim laughed. "What?"_

"_I had friends in the Army. BRASS. Breathe. Relax. Aim. Squeeze. Shoot. You're having trouble getting beyond the second step. You can't skip any steps, Tim."_

"_I can't get _to_ the steps!"_

_Jim shook his head and smiled. "Stop panicking, Tim. You have no reason to. You're letting yourself get nervous and you don't need to get nervous. Now, pick up the gun. Breathe. Relax. Aim. Squeeze. Shoot."_

_Tim looked at the paper target at the other end of the range. He took a breath and lifted the gun. He breathed and tried to relax. He aimed, squeezed the trigger, and fired._

"_Great, Tim! That's way better! Now, let's do it about a hundred more times."_

Tim smiled. Jim hadn't been kidding. He had kept Tim at the firing range until the instructor had finally come and kicked them out. ...and then, he had done it again every day for the next two weeks. Tim had got over his nerves. He'd never be an expert marksman, but he had become a good shot.

Jim wasn't here this time...and Tim really missed him right now. Not really for shooting a gun, but for a friend. He picked up the gun and assumed a basic firing position. He wasn't trying to do anything but fire. He wasn't _afraid_ of shooting, but he knew it made him too nervous. He ran through the steps and let off five rounds in quick succession. He paused, breathed again and let off the rest of the ammo, emptying the clip. Then, he set the gun down, removed the ear protection and brought the target to him.

He'd got every shot off in a good spot. A kill shot. He wasn't sure he was _proud_ of himself about being able to do that, but he _was_ glad that he still had some skills.

Then, he heard a smattering of applause behind him. He turned around in surprise.

"Good shots, there. A nice grouping," James said.

"Thanks," Tim said. He cleared his throat awkwardly and folded up the target. "Sorry if I was in your way."

"You're not. Students have the right to come and practice any time...so long as it's open."

Tim smiled but continued getting ready to leave.

"Agent McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you mind my changing around the classes?"

"No. Not at all," Tim said. "I was glad."

"Good. You've never shown any indication of interest in really improving your accuracy. What brings you here now?"

"Mostly...memories, I guess. I had a friend my first go around. He helped me get comfortable with shooting a gun. It's been a while. I was just...wishing he was here now."

"You could talk to him."

"No, I couldn't," Tim said. "He died, a few years ago. ...unless you know a good medium."

"Sorry. I don't."

Tim shrugged. "It's all right. It's something I've had to deal with for a while."

"Well, you got off some good shots there. You don't like shooting, though, do you."

"No. It's one of the things I have to get over."

"So...why don't you?" James asked.

Tim smiled tentatively. It was like the attack had suddenly allowed people to talk to him. ...but in this case, he couldn't really blame James. He had tried to avoid the weapons instructor as much as possible...wanting to avoid talking about this very thing, actually.

"Why don't I get over it?"

James smiled. "No. Why don't you like it? You don't _have_ to be a gun enthusiast to be a federal agent, but whenever you've been here, the expression on your face says that you'd rather be _anywhere_ else than at a gun range. ...and it's not that your aim is bad."

"I've had some...bad luck with guns."

"In what respect?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because I'm the arms instructor. My job is to prepare you for _your_ job...and quite frankly, if you're afraid of shooting a gun, you're not prepared. I can't do _my_ job if I don't know what's going on in your head."

"You know why I'm here."

"You mean your previous employment with NCIS and the fact that you resigned?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"When I was undercover, I was..." Tim hesitated. He didn't talk about this almost at all...and he _definitely_ didn't talk about it to near strangers. "...I was sleeping with one of the people involved in the case. ...and I ended up shooting her...killing her. It's been one of those things that's...kind of stuck with me. Then, last year, my old gun was used to murder a man I hated. It's something that I've been struggling with. I can shoot a gun. I just don't like it."

"Well, to be blunt, Agent McGee, you're going to need to get over that. You have to be able to fire your weapon without wrestling with yourself. As an agent with previous experience, you should know that already."

Tim nodded. "I do."

"You're not going to get over it by avoiding firing your weapon. You need to get used to it again...and that means firing your weapon _more_."

"That's what Jim would have told me, I'm sure."

"Jim?"

"Yeah. Jim Nelson." Tim furrowed his brow. "Why do you ask?"

"My first name is James. Friends call me Jim."

"It's like I'm starting over. I'm going back in time to the first time I came to FLETC..." Tim laughed. "...down to a guy named Jim telling me to shoot a gun."

James grinned. "Well, I'm giving you a grade...but I do want you to get through FLETC successfully. If you want to get any help, I'm always here in the evenings...and you need help."

"What kind of a grade do I have?"

"Passable, but no better."

Tim nodded. He should have realized that it would be a problem, just from a grade standpoint. ...and he knew that he had to do better just to be a good agent.

"So...what do you recommend?"

"Practice. Time. That's the basic idea."

"Figured."

"Then, do it."

Tim looked at the target he'd used already. Then, he looked back at James.

"You have time right now?" he asked.

"Lots of time."

Tim smiled and reloaded his gun. He did want to get back to his previous level, and if this is what it would take, then this is what he'd do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next few days didn't bring much change to Tim's time at FLETC. People still mostly avoided him...but he could tell it was for a different reason now. Instead of because they didn't care for him and the decision he'd made to come back, they were avoiding him out of a sense of guilt (well-deserved in his opinion). It didn't lessen the loneliness, but it made the isolation less difficult to bear.

He spent a lot of extra time practicing with his gun, and he was surprised at how much it helped him work through his lingering reluctance to wield a firearm.

He also talked with Dr. Lewis on the phone for a while about what had happened. The passage of time, days without the torment he'd come to expect, also helped him started to release some of the tension. Tension that he'd been feeling since coming to FLETC. It was a distinct relief to get rid of that.

Still, Tim regretted that he was enjoying his time at FLETC so little. It was a drag on his excitement at getting back his job. These people seemed to think he deserved only to be miserable. It didn't seem fair to him. He refused to give in to what other people thought, but at the same time, it was discouraging.

Perhaps that was why he called someone he would never have considered calling in normal circumstances. One afternoon when he had finished his classes for the day, he sat on a bench and dialed a number. He'd already looked it up earlier, but it was still a bit strange for him.

"_Fornell."_

"Hi...Agent Fornell."

"_Agent McGee?"_

"Yeah."

"_What's going on? You hear from Janssen?"_

"No. Should I?"

"_You shouldn't, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. So if it's not Janssen, what are you calling about?"_

"You said that a lot of people wanted me to succeed. Who?"

There was a chuckle. _"Why?"_

"Because...honestly, it would be nice to hear about someone who doesn't think I'm a horrible person for doing this."

"_Who thinks that?"_

"Apparently...most people here."

"_So...just out of curiosity, why are you calling me about this? I wouldn't think that I'm your go-to guy for encouragement."_

Tim smiled. "You're not. ...but you said that people want me to make it. Who wants me to make it?"

"_Well...me, for one. I don't deny that I had my moments of frustration, but you're doing everything right, Agent McGee. That means something, and to me, it's a sign that you deserve what you're getting...in terms of getting your job back, not the people at FLETC."_ There was a pause. _"Actually, I would rather have had you give up on NCIS. Then, the FBI could have snatched you up. I wouldn't have minded lording that over a few select people."_

Tim laughed and leaned back on the bench. He hadn't felt a reason to laugh in quite a while. It felt good.

"_If you need others, believe it or not, there are quite a few people at the FBI who are quietly cheering you on. I know he'd deny it, but Sacks is one of them."_

"I don't believe it."

"_Believe it. ...and, I don't know if you want to hear this, but from what I can tell, you've got everyone at NCIS Headquarters hoping that things work out. I mentioned to Gibbs that I was going down there and the reason for it, and he dropped everything to come with me. If he had told DiNozzo and David, I have no doubt that they would have tried to come with us, too. I know you're not exactly bosom buddies with them, but they want you to make it."_

Tim sobered. There were so many painful tendrils woven into his connections with his former teammates. He appreciated what Fornell had said, but at the same time, it made him nervous.

He was silent for too long and it was clear that Fornell understood all too well why he wasn't speaking.

"_Hey, kid, this isn't some kind of a test. You asked, and I answered. Even if the idiots down there don't think you deserve it, you do...and those of us who know you know that you deserve it...and they know that we can use your skills. So don't listen to them. ...and I'm sure it's not any fun to face that every day...but they're not examples of what everyone thinks."_

"Thanks, Agent Fornell. I...I'm sorry for bothering you."

"_No bother. ...but while you're on the phone, can I ask you to reconsider letting Janssen off?"_

"You can ask, but I'll say no."

"_It's your choice, but it's a mistake. Janssen's not the kind of guy who'll cool off and move on. This has festered...and he doesn't seem to care about taking care of it."_

"I did the same thing."

"_Only you did it to yourself...not to others. Janssen's attitude is way more dangerous to people around him than yours."_

Tim swallowed, but he stubbornly shook his head, even though Fornell couldn't see him.

"I'm not changing my mind."

"_All right. If you see even a glimpse of him, you tell someone, Agent McGee. If Janssen is around, then he has a reason for it...and you've already experienced what he's done."_

"He blames me for his brother's death."

"_Without reason. He needs someone to blame and you're convenient. Don't let him get to you...in any way. That's my recommendation as an agent. You told me to look in his eyes. I did, and what I saw there was not someone you can trust to be reasonable. He's not."_

"If I see him...but I won't. He won't know where I'm ending up. _I_ don't even know that."

"_All the same..."_

"I'll tell someone."

"_Good. Was there anything else?"_

"No. Thanks, Agent Fornell."

"_No problem, Agent McGee. Good luck."_

Tim hung up and looked around. No one was near, and he didn't mind that at all. People were nearly always the problem. ...but he did have people who wanted him to make it.

Maybe that would be enough to get him through these last few weeks. With that last thought, he got up and headed for his room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

With three weeks left of the program at FLETC, Tim felt he had really got a handle on dealing with weaponry again. James put in a lot of extra time helping him get back in the saddle, so to speak, and Tim appreciated it. It was almost like having a friend again, although James was definitely not the same as Jim Nelson had been. Being an instructor, he was much more formal, but still, he was supportive and he didn't seem to have any trouble with giving Tim some extra attention.

While he still didn't have any friends at FLETC, the looks had stopped, and people even greeted him when he came into a room. Tim didn't ignore the greetings. He returned them, but he didn't bother trying to do more. He wasn't interested. Too much had _not_ happened during his time here. It was a disappointment, but Tim was just looking forward to getting away from FLETC and trying to get back into his life.

There was so much more to his life than had been a part of it only a few months ago. He was only now truly appreciating the fact that he could look to the future now...something that had eluded him before. All he'd had before was the past...his horrible past that contained...

...but now, there was something more. Now, there was a future. The present didn't have to be horrible, and the future had potential. He might be clinging to that with some degree of desperation right now, but even so, it was important that he acknowledged the future existed at all.

So...now, all he had to do was finish FLETC, graduate...and find out where he'd go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

"This is not working," Tony said, shaking his head. "Whose idea was this?"

Abby laughed. "Gibbs' idea. You want to tell him he's wrong?"

Ziva didn't smile. "I still cannot believe that this man was so heartless and full of hatred. McGee has made a mistake."

"Yeah, but if Ducky, Gibbs and Fornell can't convince him to change his mind," Tony said, "we don't have a chance. Let's just get this stupid thing done. ...and hey, why isn't Jimmy helping?"

"He is," Abby said. "He's out searching for new eyes."

"New eyes? But one has survived," Ziva pointed out.

"Yeah, and how is he going to possibly match to the one that survived? Better to start with new ones."

Ziva nodded and then looked at Tony.

"Tony, you are not helping."

"I bought the...cotton...stuffing...stuff," Tony said. "I don't know anything about the rest of it."

"Nor do I, but I am _trying_ to help."

"And it's thanks to Gibbs that it's in as good a shape as it is," Abby pointed out.

Tony snorted. "Good shape? With those big green lines running down...where some psycho slashed it with a knife? That's not good shape."

"It is at least in one piece now."

"Sure. Do you really think this is going to do any good?"

"Are you kidding?" Abby asked. "He'll love it! That's the whole point! This is the kind of thing that Tim will love."

"Love? That's a bit strong."

Abby rolled her eyes and tossed the cotton stuffing at him.

"Start pulling that apart. We want this to be soft...but we can't stuff it all in at once."

Tony grumbled and started pulling the stuffing into wads. Ziva and Abby took turns sewing the holes around the arms and legs. About half an hour later, Jimmy came with the required eyes. They were green and sparkly.

"I've got eyes!" Jimmy announced happily.

"Where did you find them?" Abby asked.

"Some little novelty shop. They had tons of stuff for making teddy bears...if you want to do the whole thing yourself. I think they were disappointed that I only wanted eyes."

"How do we put them on?" Ziva asked.

"Uh...I thought _you_ guys knew. You didn't tell me to figure anything out, just to find the eyes."

"Oh, come on," Tony said. "How hard could it be? If you can sew on a button, you can sew on eyes."

"Okay, Mr. Expert," Abby said. "_You_ do it."

Tony's eyes widened, but he squared his shoulders and grinned.

"You just watch me rock," he said.

He took some of the green thread...and then sheepishly held it out.

"I can't thread the needle," he said.

Ziva smiled.

"I thought we were watching you rock?"

"I will, but I need you to get me started."

Jimmy suppressed a chuckle. "I can do it."

"Oh, I'll sew them on. You just thread the needle."

Jimmy took the thread and quickly got the thread through the eye and then knotted the end and handed it back to Tony.

"Go for it."

Tony took the thread and the eyes...and paused.

"Why are you all staring at me?" he asked.

Abby smiled. "You _did_ tell us to watch you rock. I'm just obeying the orders of the senior field agent."

"Ha ha."

"Would you like us to turn away?" Ziva asked. "Are you not able to perform?"

"Hey!"

"What? Something wrong?" she asked.

Tony grumbled and bent over the bear. He took his time placing the eyes where there had been ripped holes before and started to sew the eyes on carefully. He wasn't really especially facile with a needle and thread, but he could manage. He'd been taking care of himself for quite some time.

It took a few minutes but he finished with the buttons and held them up.

"There. See? Told you I could do it."

"They look very nice," Ziva said. "Now, we can started stuffing."

By unspoken consent, they all took turns shoving some of the stuffing into the newly-repaired body. They each took a limb and then passed off putting stuffing into the head and body. Then, when they were finished with that, Abby sewed up the back...and it was done.

They set it up and looked at it.

"It looks terrible," Tony said. "It still looks ruined."

"No, it doesn't!" Abby said. "It's fixed!"

"It is not. You can see all the stitches, all the places we had to fix stuff...all the places Gibbs sewed it and patched it. This looks crappy."

The repaired teddy bear had multiple strips of straight green stitches where the fabric had been mercilessly slashed. Across the stomach was a large patch of green fabric that _almost_ matched the original plush material. Almost. The eyes were a bit larger than the original had been, giving the bear a slightly bug-eyed look. One of the ears still looked mauled. All in all, it seemed to Tony to be a sad fix...and a rather pointless attempt to repair something that should have just been thrown away.

"McGee will not see it that way," Ziva said softly.

"What will _he_ see, then?" Tony asked.

"He will see it for what it is supposed to be: an attempt to repair something that was violently taken from him. An attempt by people who still make him uncomfortable. We are showing that we care enough to try."

"Can't we just say so?" Tony asked.

"Perhaps, but this will mean something to him."

"McGee can be weird that way," Jimmy said, nodding. "Sure, it looks terrible, but he won't care. He'll be surprised that we bothered to do it, and he'll like it."

Tony looked at the bear again.

"I think you're all nuts...but okay. I'll go along."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Tim was all packed to leave...with only one thing missing. Part of him regretted telling Ducky to throw his destroyed teddy bear away. Even if it couldn't be fixed, he didn't want it gone. It wasn't that he couldn't buy another one himself. He could...but it felt wrong to do that. Instead, he just tried not to think about what Janssen had done. It was in the past. It was impossible to expect anything to change.

The knock on the door surprised him. His family was going to make it for the graduation, but Tim already knew that they weren't going to get there early. Their flight had been delayed.

"Come in?" he said.

The door open.

"Hey, Ducky. What brings you here? I was going to be heading out in just a few minutes."

"I know, but I wanted to let you know what to expect."

"What do you mean? I've been to FLETC graduation before. Remember?"

"You have a bit of a group here to see you."

"What? Who? I know that my family will be here...and you're here. Who else?"

Ducky raised an eyebrow.

"They're...all of them? Here?"

"Plus Abigail and Dr. Palmer."

Tim knew he probably looked like a deer in the headlights...and he also knew there was no reason to feel so shocked and unsettled by the appearance of his former teammates. He didn't hate them. He hadn't even thought of what they had done in ages. ...but that didn't mean he felt comfortable around them yet.

"You needn't act so surprised, Timothy. They wanted to see this step you're taking. ...unless you'd rather not have them around."

"No...that's...not...I'm just surprised."

"You shouldn't be. You know that they care."

"It's still kind of...a surprise."

Ducky smiled. "Timothy, it's wonderful to see you so positive."

"I'm doing my best, but I'm not really...all the way there."

"You don't have to be. I'm happy to see the progress you've made."

"I wish more people were happy about what I'm doing."

"Don't worry about the people here. They don't matter. If _you_ are certain, that is what matters. Are you?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. Are you ready to come out and see them?"

Tim took a breath and nodded again.

"Come then."

Tim followed behind Ducky out to where many people were starting to gather in anticipation of the coming ceremony. A couple of the other students waved briefly at Tim. He returned the gesture but no more than that.

"They seem to be mellowing a bit."

"Yeah. A bit."

"There they are."

Tim saw them and tried not to feel tense.

"Hey, Tim!"

Tim smiled as Abby ran over and hugged him. The hug was quick and then she grabbed his arm and dragged him over to everyone else.

"Hey. I'm...surprised you guys all made the trip down here."

"Wouldn't miss it," Tony said.

"Actually, we have a graduation present for you," Ziva said.

"Oh...you didn't have to do that," Tim said, shrugging awkwardly. "Really. This isn't the first time I've graduated from FLETC."

"Oh, this was special!" Abby said. "I'm really excited to see what you think of it. We all chipped in. Even Gibbs!"

Tim looked at Gibbs and then at Tony and Ziva. Tony seemed embarrassed, but Jimmy looked just as eager as Abby had.

"Okay..." Tim said.

Abby pulled out a largish package.

"Open it!"

"Right now?" Tim asked.

"Yes!"

"Okay."

Tim hesitantly pulled off the wrapping paper and then found that he couldn't speak. He stared at it. The teddy bear that Janssen had destroyed...that he had thought Ducky had thrown away. It looked awful. All the stitches where Janssen had cut through the material. He could see that it had been repaired. Carefully, yes, but still, he could see every single stitch.

"It's terrible, isn't it," Tony said into the silence.

Tim could barely speak around the lump in his throat.

"Timothy?"

"Thank you," Tim said. "Really. Thanks."

"You like it?" Tony asked, sounding incredulous.

_Thwack!_

"I mean...of course, you like it!"

Tim couldn't really explain why he was so touched by it. The eyes alone on the bear were disturbing at best, but he loved it.

"Ducky...would you hold on to it while I'm...sititng with the group?"

"Of course."

Tim handed it to him and then looked at the others who were still standing a bit awkwardly.

"Thanks. I mean it. ...but I've got to go and get ready."

"Of course," Jimmy said. "We'll see you later, McGee."

Tim nodded and then hurried away...wiping at a few tears he hadn't been able to swallow. It was enough to get him in his seat, surrounded by the people who didn't care about him. He knew that there were others who did care.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you sure he liked it?" Tony asked. "He wasn't very...excited."

Ducky smiled. "It went deeper than excitement, Anthony. I promise. Timothy appreciated that...and I must admit that I'm surprised that you all managed to salvage anything out of what had remained. Timothy will treasure this, even if he doesn't tell you so."

"Well...okay. Let's get our seats. Should we save some for McGee's family?"

"I believe that his friend Matt is already doing so. He said that we were welcome to sit beside him."

The suggestion was accepted which meant that, when the rest of the McGees arrived, Tim had a fairly large group there to cheer him on. When the ceremony got started, they listened to all the meaningless speeches, waiting for the one name they wanted to hear. The ceremony itself wasn't all that long. This wasn't high school, after all.

They all listened to the names, and then started to applaud as Tim's name was spoken and he walked over to get his certificate.

...and then, something changed.

As Tim walked back toward his seat, suddenly, there was a wave of motion and all the students stood as a body and started to clap for Tim. There was no cheering, but a solid wall of sound that stopped Tim in his tracks. For a moment, he had that frightened look on his face that usually accompanied his lingering worry about being able to control his environment...but that quickly changed to simple shock. Actually, it surprised Ducky and the others with him. What had caused this sudden turn around? Tim clearly hadn't expected it, but a hesitant smile crossed his face and he even managed to bow slightly in jest before hurrying off the stage and out of the public eye.

As soon as he was off the stage, the clapping stopped and the students all sat together.

"What was that?" Gibbs murmured.

"And attempt to make things right...an acknowledgment that things have gone very wrong," Ducky said softly.

"Will McGee accept it?"

"Who knows? He may. He may not...but he'll know why it was being done...and that matters."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim felt very strange as he sat in the midst of the people in his class. The applause had utterly shocked him, and he wasn't sure what to do in response.

After the ceremony was over, everyone stood up and began slowly filing away. Through the crowd, he saw Lucy Cronin and made his way over to her.

"Was that your idea?" he asked with no preamble.

"Believe it or not, no, it wasn't. ...but people have been talking."

"About me?"

"Yes. They could see you weren't interested in the sop that any attempt to bring you in would have been...but a lot of us realized how stupid we'd been. It seemed like the best way to acknowledge what you'd done."

Tim wasn't sure what to say. It was a nice gesture, but...

To his surprise, Lucy just stuck out her hand.

"I know that we can't make up for the way things were here. We're not going to be friends or anything, but I remember what you said to me, and you're right. The way we were thinking about you was wrong. All of us know why we gave you the standing ovation. That's probably about as important as _you_ knowing why."

"Guilt?"

She smiled. "Some of it, definitely. But I'll admit it: we didn't think you'd stay. We didn't think you'd make it. You did, and that deserved to be noted."

Tim shook her hand.

"I can't say 'no hard feelings'," Tim said, "but I can say good luck."

"Thanks. Good luck to you, too, McGee. My family's waiting."

Tim nodded and watched her leave. He looked back toward where he could see his little group waiting for him.

FLETC hadn't been fun, but it was over now...and he had the rest of his life to whip into shape. That was enough for now. This had been an important step...and he'd taken it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_One week later..._

"_Director Vance, Agent McGee is here."_

Vance smiled. "Good. Send him in."

He leaned back. Tim had gone through everything required to become an agent again (and more), and now, it was time to get him assigned. Vance was happy to have the chance to tell Tim about his plan.

The door opened and Tim came in. Vance was glad to see him looking quite solid. He was skinnier than he had been when working for NCIS before, but, except for the scar on his face from the incident at FLETC, he seemed calm and put together. It was a relief.

"Agent McGee. It's good to see you looking so well."

Tim smiled at him. "Thanks, Director."

"Have a seat."

Tim sat down and his brow furrowed slightly. "What is this meeting about, sir? I was expecting to get my assignment, but I haven't. Have you changed your mind about rehiring me?"

"Not at all. Because of the circumstances, I wanted to give you the chance to choose your assignment to some degree."

"I appreciate that, sir. Um...I was looking at the available spaces..." Tim paused, looking a bit awkward.

"Good, because I..."

Tim suddenly interrupted. Vance could tell it was because he was nervous, not out of a desire to cut him off.

"I saw that there was an opening at Norfolk."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "Norfolk? That's not even a regular field office. There's no MCRT there."

"I know. That's where I started...before. Maybe it's silly, sir, but I'd like the chance to start there again."

"It'd be a waste of your talents, Agent McGee. You're not green, for all that you're newly-rehired."

"I know...but if I have my choice, sir, I'd like to start out in Norfolk."

"I can't guarantee that there will be openings elsewhere if you get tired of Norfolk."

"I know that. I've thought about it a lot," Tim said earnestly. "I don't want to make it difficult for you, but if I do have the chance to pick, that's what I want."

Once again, Vance saw his great and glorious plan fizzle, but he smiled and nodded.

"All right, Agent McGee. I'm not sure that this is the best idea, but I'll give you your pick. It might take a bit of shuffling around; so wait for the official contact before you make arrangements to move there."

"Yes, sir. How long will that be, sir?"

"A week or two. No more."

Tim stood up. "Thank you, sir," he said with a smile. "I really appreciate all the help you've given me...and the risk you took in taking me on again."

"There's no risk, Agent McGee," Vance said.

"Yes, there is, sir. Maybe not as much now, but still, allowing someone like me back...that could have blown up in your face, and I just wanted to say thank you for going out on a limb."

Vance stood as well. "It was a thick limb, Agent McGee. No worries about it breaking off on my part." He held out his hand. "Good luck, Agent McGee."

Tim shook it firmly. "Thank you, sir."

"I hope I haven't made a mistake."

"You haven't."

"All right. I'll take your word for it. Good luck."

"Thank you."

Tim left the office and Vance sat down. He'd thought that he understood Tim, but this surprised him. He hadn't even _considered_ that Tim might want to go back to the beginning. He had hoped to get Tim back to work on an MCRT, even if it wasn't at headquarters. Still, maybe he knew best. HR would have a field day doing some extra shifting, but Vance felt an obligation to Tim. He felt it was partially his fault that Tim was in this situation at all.

He picked up his phone.

"Ms. Long?"

"_Yes, Director?"_

"I have some files for HR."

"_Yes, sir. I'll be right in."_

Vance sighed. Well, maybe it would still work out. Tim wanted to, in effect, redo his NCIS career. He'd been at Norfolk for less than a year before getting to Gibbs' team. He smiled to himself.

_Okay, McGee. I'm giving you six months,_ he thought to himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky smiled as Tim explained what had happened at his meeting with Vance. He'd been at NCIS, again at Jimmy's request. Ducky was beginning to suspect that Jimmy did that on purpose. When Tim had come into Autopsy, Jimmy had conveniently finished up what he needed Ducky's help with and taken a break.

"Timothy, I'm glad you're getting what you're wanting, but aren't you holding yourself back?"

Tim shrugged slightly. "Maybe...a little...but...I need to have the chance to get my feet wet again. It's been a long time since I did any of this stuff. I had a few months away from it when Vance broke the team up, and it took me a while to get back into it. It's been a lot longer...and a lot different this time. I don't want to screw up because I dove in too deep before I was ready."

"I don't think you need to worry about that."

Tim grinned. "I don't. I'm not diving in. I'm walking slowly...with a dignified pace."

Ducky chuckled. "Well, I have to admit that I was hoping to have you back in DC. I've missed you, lad."

"Well...there weren't any spaces available in DC anyway. I wouldn't have been here in any case. Norfolk is only a few hours away. I can come here to bug you."

"You'd better."

"It's a promise."

"Excellent. Why don't we head out now...and tell the others."

Tim visibly hesitated. Ducky smiled with understanding.

"It's not that I'm mad at them or anything, Ducky. It really isn't. I'm not like that anymore. ...but..."

"They'll be happy for you, you know. There's no resentment."

"Not this time," Tim said softly. He looked away.

Ducky got it.

"That was one very-regrettable situation, Timothy. It's not something you should expect to be the norm."

"I don't. Not really," Tim said. "...but I didn't expect it the first time, either. Things are...a lot better now, but...I'm just..." He sighed. "I'm afraid of getting taken by surprise like that again. The first time was awful...and it led to even worse things." A weak smile. "It's part of my still wanting to control my environment."

Ducky put an arm around Tim's shoulders as he led him to the elevator.

"You don't need to chalk everything up to that, Timothy. It can be simple anxiety. Many people have that."

"Simple? I don't know that anything in my life is really simple anymore. ...but I'll get Jethro out of your hair in a couple of weeks."

"Jethro is very well-behaved. He's been no burden to me."

"Thanks."

The elevator doors opened, revealing the bullpen. Tim swallowed nervously, and Ducky pushed him out of the elevator toward where the team was working.

"Hey, McGee! What's up?" Tony asked, grinning.

It was almost like normal...and Ducky could acknowledge that it probably would have been if Tim could let himself relax enough. Ziva and Gibbs both looked up at the greeting. Ziva smiled with genuine welcome. Gibbs was more reserved...as usual.

"I was just meeting with Vance. ...to get my assignment," Tim said.

"Where are you going?" Tony asked.

"Norfolk," Tim said, smiling a little.

Ducky noticed that Gibbs' eyebrows raised in momentary surprise. As soon as he saw Ducky staring at him, he cleared away the expression.

"Norfolk?" Ziva repeated. "Is that not where you were when you started at NCIS?"

"Yeah. Maybe I'll get my same office," Tim said.

"But...isn't there a position on an MCRT available?" Tony asked, furrowing his brow. "Your office was a cramped closet full of paper. That's not a..."

"It's what I asked for," Tim said, interrupting Tony.

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Because it's what I want," Tim said, stiffening a little at the perceived criticism.

"You are starting over?" Ziva asked, unexpectedly saving the situation.

Tim looked at Ziva and Ducky saw him relax.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Then, congratulations," Ziva said. "I am glad that you are getting what you want."

"Thanks, Ziva."

"Good luck, McGee," Gibbs said, breaking his silence.

"Thanks, Gibbs," Tim said and then looked at Tony.

Tony appeared to be warring with himself, but then, he smiled...a little mischievously even.

"Good luck, Probie."

Ducky could see Tim deciding how to take that, but then, he finally smiled.

"At least the term is accurate now."

"Not for long," Tony said.

Tim shrugged. "See you around," he said. "I've got to go."

He waved at them and then strode back to the elevator, leaving Ducky to catch up. As soon as the doors closed, Tim sighed.

"See?" he said. "I can't seem to relax around them."

"Stop worrying so much about what they might be thinking."

"Tony thinks I'm being stupid."

"No," Ducky said, patiently. "He thinks that you are more skilled that the job at Norfolk requires. It is because you can do so much more that he was questioning your assignment."

"So...why can't I see that?" Tim asked.

The elevator doors opened, and Tim walked out toward the exit.

"Hey, Agent McGee. Missed you around here."

"I'm just visiting, Henry," Tim said. "When are you going to retire?"

Henry, the security guard, grinned. "When they drag me out of here feet first. Where you going?"

"Norfolk."

"We're better," he said.

"I know. I'll get so that I can fit in with the best again."

"Oh, I don't think you have too much to do. Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Dr. Mallard, always nice to see you around here."

"It's nice to visit, Henry, but I didn't want to be dragged out like a corpse."

"Ha!"

Ducky grinned and followed Tim out of the building.

"Timothy?"

Tim slowed his pace so that Ducky could catch up.

"You can't see it because you're not ready to trust them yet...but you'll see. Soon enough you'll find that you _can_ trust them."

"When?"

"When you can give them the same chance you gave yourself."

Tim smiled at Ducky. "Still working on that part."

"I know...and I'm glad of it."

"Me, too."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim got his official posting the next week. He went to Norfolk the same day to go searching for apartments. Ducky tagged along but kept his opinions to himself. He was just glad to see Tim looking at nice apartments rather than rundown places that he might still gravitate towards out of a bad habit.

They were unsuccessful the first day, but they went down again a couple of days later and searched again. Tim found a place he thought he could afford and signed a lease. He had almost nothing in the way of furniture after all his travels and experiences. So Ducky took him shopping and insisted on helping him with the costs, even though Tim was equally insistent that he could afford to buy his own furniture.

By the time Tim was ready to move in, he had enough furniture for his new apartment. It was like a new beginning.

Ducky looked around the apartment.

"It's very nice, Timothy."

"It does the job," Tim said.

"You know...there would be room in here for that desk."

Tim shook his head.

"Very well."

"Maybe...some day. Not yet."

"I'll take that."

"Good."

Tim sat on his new couch. "I never had room for a couch in my old apartment."

"And do you like that?"

"Yeah. Maybe I can invite someone over."

"I think Abigail will invite herself over soon enough."

Tim grinned. "She's coming tomorrow on her day off."

Ducky chuckled.

"Jimmy said he might tag along."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Tim confessed. "Abby just said that I need to have an official housewarming. You want to come? Protect me from whatever she might do?"

"I think I'll let Dr. Palmer protect you."

Tim laughed. "All right. It's kind of weird."

"What is?"

"This is so normal. I haven't had that in a while."

"All the better to start now," Ducky said.

"Yeah."

Tim looked toward his bedroom. Ducky followed his gaze.

"It looks good there."

Tim smiled.

"I haven't forgotten it, Ducky."

"You shouldn't."

"I haven't. I look at it every day."

"Keep in mind the people behind it."

Tim nodded. "I'm trying."

They looked at the repaired teddy bear sitting in a place of prominence on Tim's new bed.

"I'm happy for you, Timothy."

Tim smiled. "I think I am, too."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"So...Tim, are you ready?" Matt asked.

Tim smiled and shrugged. "I hope so. ...but I thought I was ready for FLETC...and I wasn't."

"Think positively, Tim," Judith said. "It can't be worse than dreading the first day."

"Oh...I'm not dreading it," Tim said. "I'm nervous, but at least Agent Grandon should be fair."

"You know her?"

"Sort of. I did see her when the...when my undercover stuff was over, but I wasn't really paying attention. I've heard only good things about her, though."

Chris ran into the room with his arms up.

"Tim! Tim!" he shouted. He'd finally learned Tim's name, but it was still usually accompanied by the strange goo he'd used before.

Tim laughed. Chris had done the same thing when Tim had first come over and then he'd got bored with the adults and run off to play. Now, he was deciding he was interested again.

"What is it, Chris?" Tim asked.

"Come!"

He grabbed Tim's hand and started pulling. Tim let the two-year-old drag him out of the living room and to the stairs...where he'd taken and carefully thrown his large ceramic dominos. He let go of Tim's hand to wave his arms around.

"Ta-da!" he said.

"Wow. I'm sure your mom and dad will be thrilled," Tim said.

Chris giggled, understanding maybe three of the words Tim had said.

"Yes, we're thrilled that our son has discovered the joys of the stairs," Matt said.

Tim smiled at Matt and then knelt down beside Chris and began picking the dominos up.

"Tim, you don't have to clean up Chris' messes," Judith said.

"I don't mind. He thinks it's a game."

"Yes. We'd like to disabuse him of that notion," Matt said.

"Good luck. From what I understand, little kids don't care about what the parents want."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that. I'm becoming his slave."

Tim laughed...and then Chris joined in, clapping his hands in excitement.

"You ready for dinner?" Judith asked.

"Sure. Chris and I will clean up the dominos. You going to help me, Chris?" Tim asked.

Chris laughed again. Tim began showing him how to pick up the tiles and put them in the tin. Chris grabbed two fistfuls of dominos (about three in each hand) and threw them in the general direction of the tin.

"Close," Tim said. "_Into_ the tin, Chris. Not _at_ the tin."

"Ta-da!" Chris said.

Tim just laughed, hearing Judith and Matt laughing as they headed for the kitchen. Tim picked up the dominos. Chris got a couple into the tin, but mostly he just threw them...in the direction of the tin. Tim obligingly put them away. When he got the last domino in the tin, he threw his arms in the air.

"All done! Yea!"

Chris copied him.

"Time to eat!"

Chris understood _that_ and zoomed off to the kitchen, leaving Tim behind. That was all right. Tim picked up the tin and left it on a bench. Chris was demanding to be put up in his chair. Judith looked at Tim when he came in.

"He needs a sibling," she said.

"I agree. Are you going to try it?"

"Already have," Matt said. "We're just waiting to find out if it's going to work. We'd actually like to have a few more...but in manageable chunks. I guess that's the only good thing about not being able to have children ourselves. We can at least make decisions and not have to worry about accidents."

"Yeah. I hope it works out," Tim said.

"We're hoping that one good result will help us get more," Judith said. "Chris seems pretty happy about it."

They sat down at the table, blessed the food and then ate. For all his excitement to eat, Chris didn't actually consume a whole lot of food. Still, he provided some fun entertainment. They ate and chatted without getting into anything deep. After they cleaned up dinner, Judith and Matt took Chris upstairs to put him to bed. While he was alone, Tim looked around the house, ending up at the pool (of course), remembering when he had been here two years ago, turning a lovely home into his prison.

_I'm good at that,_ he thought to himself ruefully. He hid himself away from everyone, letting himself sink further and further into the mire. He had started to sink again in the hospital after Janssen had tried to kill him, but that time, he had stopped himself before he had fallen too far. He was learning how to stop that feeling before it overwhelmed him. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he felt discouraged by the fact that he had changed so much from how he'd been. Perhaps there was still a chance that he could fully throw off the negatives that now plagued him.

"...but maybe not."

At least there were no frogs to drown in the pool anymore.

"Tim?"

Tim turned away from the pool.

"Yeah?"

"You all right?" Matt asked.

"Yeah...just kind of...wondering."

Matt smiled. "About what?"

Tim looked at Matt and then at Judith who came out behind him.

"I trust you guys. Both of you. You've seen me in a lot of ways, and... Do you think that...that I could ever be who I was again?"

"In what respect?" Judith asked. "You know you can't go back."

"Not back...but...be more than I've been. It's still so easy for me to slip and fall."

"But you're not falling," Matt said.

"But I _could_ have. I almost did...at FLETC. I almost gave up, but I didn't want to. ...but sometimes, I just feel so..." He laughed a little. "...so bummed. I wasn't like this. Not for a long time."

Judith walked over and put an arm around Tim's waist. She directed him inside and then sat him down on a couch in the living room.

"Tim, you're _so_ much better than you were. You _know_ that," Judith said. "There's no reason to think that you're not going to be able to continue on that track."

"Sometimes, there are limits," Tim said. "What if I've reached mine?"

Matt sat down opposite Tim.

"Do you really think you have?" Matt asked. He smiled. "You know what we believe. There _are_ no limits."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, but you also believe that a lot of that is after you die. I'm talking about the here and now."

"So am I. My head isn't stuck in the clouds. I'm pretty firmly grounded. Do you think you've hit your limit?"

"I don't know."

Matt shook his head. "No, Tim. Don't withdraw like that. You tend to pull back rather than risk being wrong. Risk it. Do you think you're done?"

Tim looked at Matt and then at Judith who was sitting beside him. Why was it that these small steps always loomed in front of him like brick walls?

"I...don't _want_ to be done. I want to be better than I am now."

"Do you think you can?"

"I hope so."

"All right. I'll take that. If so, then, just keep trying. I know that's hard, but if you keep trying, _really_ trying, you won't be so disappointed in yourself...because you'll know you made the effort."

"You sure of that? I'm pretty good at being disappointed."

Judith laughed and hugged Tim.

"You definitely excel at that, but you're also more than smart enough to know when you're doing your best. Now, we don't want to keep you here too late since you're starting work, but remember, Tim. We're rooting for you. Always."

Tim hugged Judith back. "Thanks. I do appreciate it. Really."

"I know."

Tim hugged Matt and then headed home. He'd already spent some time with Ducky earlier; so he didn't feel too bad about driving straight back to Norfolk. He didn't want to be driving too late at night.

He got to his apartment close to midnight, took Jethro out and then headed right to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The next morning..._

Tim took a deep breath and got out of his car. The last year of his life had been building up to this moment. Now that it was here, he was really nervous...especially after what had happened at FLETC. Still, he knew he couldn't approach every moment as if he was going to be the loser. So he strode into the office with a confident pace. It propelled him from his car to the door to Agent Alexis Grandon's office. He paused and then knocked.

"Enter!"

One more breath and then Tim walked in. Agent Grandon looked up at him and smiled.

"Agent McGee. Good. Have a seat."

Tim sat down.

"I was surprised to see your name on the list of my agents."

"Why?"

"Because you're way too experienced for the position you're taking. Why are you here?"

"I requested this assignment."

"I know. I called to verify when I saw your name. Why did you want to work _here_? You could have been on any MCRT you wanted."

Tim hesitated to explain his reasons for coming here. Agent Grandon seemed to notice.

"Be honest, Agent McGee."

"Well...this is where I started out, and I wanted to come back here."

"But you'll likely be wasted here."

Tim smiled. "Only if I let myself _feel_ wasted. I asked to come here and I'll do the best I can."

"I believe you will."

"...and I didn't want to leave this area," Tim confessed. "I wanted to stay as close to DC as I could, and there were no openings in DC."

"So if there were?"

"I'm here, Agent Grandon. I'm here for as long as is necessary, as long as you feel I'm performing adequately."

"Well, I've been bucking for establishing an MCRT here at Norfolk. Maybe the director is finally listening to me. Will you have trouble working with your old team? If we have a big case, that's who we'll be calling. You'll have to work with them."

"I can work with them."

"Are you sure?" Agent Grandon asked seriously. "I remember what you did at the end of your stint undercover."

"That was over two years ago," Tim said. "I'm not like that anymore. We're still pretty awkward, but I'll be able to work with them."

"Okay."

"Ma'am?"

"You don't have to be so formal with me, Agent McGee. ...but since I can tell you don't feel comfortable doing anything else right now, please don't call me 'ma'am'. Agent Grandon...and when you feel like you can pronounce my first name, it's Alex."

Tim smiled. "Understood...Agent Grandon."

Agent Grandon laughed and stood up. "All right, Agent McGee. Let me show you where you'll be set up. I thought you might want to move up in the world and not use your old office...and really, you can't because it's been converted back to the broom closet it should always have been."

Tim laughed. "Was it really a broom closet?"

"That's what _I_ was told. Your office is right down here."

Tim followed Agent Grandon. The office she showed him was quite a bit bigger than his old closet. Instead of the wide open bullpen in headquarters, there were a few individual offices, all connected with each other via an open space with a few desks.

"As the full agents, you and I get our own offices. We have a couple of rotating agents who are here and then gone again as they move around. Often when the Agents Afloat come into port, we have them working here for a few weeks as the sailors on the ships they were serving on get their...kinks out. They'll also give their reports here. It's a nice system, although I still think we'd be better off with our own MCRT and lab."

Tim nodded.

"Any questions?"

"Uh..." Tim looked around. "What do you want me to do first?"

Agent Grandon smiled. "Work, Agent McGee. There's always lots to do."

"I'm glad to be in on it again," Tim said.

Agent Grandon led Tim into his office and briefed him on what they were working on right now, and Tim dove in with gusto, happy to be back where he'd been once before.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tim was surprised at how busy he was...and at how quickly all the routines and regulations he'd learned before came back to him. Alex was pretty laid back, but she followed the rules just like anyone, and they were the same rules as on an MCRT. As she'd promised, they didn't have a lot of complicated cases. When ships came into port, there were always scuffles and fights and some bad behavior from the sailors, but in Tim's first two months at Norfolk, there was not a single big case.

...which wasn't to say that there weren't some surprises.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Tim?" Alex asked, keeping her eye on the young ensign. He had grown more and more nervous as Tim had continued searching his bunk.

Tim lifted up the mattress, saw nothing, but he wasn't done yet. Everything had pointed to Ensign Halloway being in possession of stolen prescription drugs. He hadn't been off ship yet. There had to be something here. He pulled the sheet...and a few pills clattered to the floor.

"Got something here, Agent Grandon," Tim said. He picked up the pills. "Looks like Percocet."

Alex looked at the pills and then at Ensign Halloway. "You still going to claim that you had nothing to do with it, Ensign?"

Ensign Halloway's Adam's apple bobbed up and down once.

"Looks like there's not enough here for him to be selling. Personal use?" Tim asked.

Ensign Halloway still said nothing.

"Come on, Ensign," Alex said, her voice becoming persuasive. "This isn't the first time we've seen this kind of thing. It's not the end of the world. Just tell the truth."

It was close quarters. Too close as it turned out. Ensign Halloway suddenly lashed out at Alex and knocked her back into the wall. She hit it hard, dropped her gun and slid to the floor, stunned. Tim surged to his feet and put himself in between Alex and the ensign as he scooped up the gun and pointed it at them. Tim had his gun out as well.

"Ensign, this isn't the way to solve this."

"I can't let...this happen," he said, the gun shaking in his hand.

"You need help, Ensign," Tim said soothingly. "You can get that help, but if you start shooting, that's it. Even if you're _not_ killed in the crossfire, you'll never be in the Navy again. You'll spend the rest of your life in prison. Is that what you want?"

"Better that than to...have to face my...my dad."

Tim nodded. "I understand...but you're wrong. Your father, no matter how important family pride is to him, would not want you to kill innocent people. There is another way. Just put down the gun."

The ensign shook his head, but he was almost crying, and Tim could see he was weakening.

"How did it start? Minor injury that just wouldn't go away?" Tim asked. "It happens too often, but there's hope for getting better...and we can help you with that. You just have to put down the gun."

"I'm going to prison."

"You might...attacking and threatening NCIS agents isn't going away, but you'll also get help. Your life isn't over, Ensign. Not if you let us help you."

Alex was starting to come around and she stirred. Tim put one hand back to reassure her and keep her still, his eyes still on Ensign Halloway.

"Ensign, I've fallen into that kind of place. You think you can't get out, but you're wrong. You can. I'm proof that you can. Just put down the gun."

There was an endless moment where no one moved...but then, finally, _finally_, Ensign Halloway dropped the gun and started crying. Tim holstered his own and approached.

"I'm going to have to cuff you, Ensign. You're under arrest, but it's not the end of the world. All right?"

The ensign didn't resist and Tim was able to call for help for Alex and get Ensign Halloway escorted to holding. There were reports to make and forms to fill out and Tim continued to operate on the same level until the end of the day. The last form had been sent off. He'd talked to JAG about showing some leniency to the ensign and getting him some help in getting off the drugs. Alex was going to be fine.

...and the office was empty. Finally, Tim leaned back as the reality of what had happened that day hit him. The adrenaline wore off and he rubbed his hands through his hair and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. He should probably go home, but he felt too keyed up for that. He got up and walked out of the office. In the evening air, he headed toward the docks, but he didn't get very far.

"Tim."

Tim stopped and turned.

"Agent Grandon...I thought you'd gone home."

"Oh, I live here."

Tim laughed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine. It was a hard knock, but not serious. How are _you_?"

"Okay. It's all hitting me now."

Alex clouted him on the back.

"Figured it might be. You held it together pretty good."

"Thanks...please, don't tell me that this was some kind of test."

Alex grinned. "If it is?"

"Then, I'm going to ask for a transfer. Right now."

"Well, it wasn't. I have to admit that I was wondering if you still had what it took. This was the first real _test_ of how well-recovered you really are. I was hoping to come to a conclusion _without_ this kind of situation coming up, but since it did, I could evaluate."

"You were unconscious!" Tim protested.

"No, I wasn't. Just a bit out of it. I was totally conscious the entire time."

"And I passed this test that was not a test?"

"With flying colors. I'm glad you were there to back me up, Tim. You've got my back...and I've got yours whenever you need it."

Tim smiled and his throat tightened a little bit. It was such a nice thing to hear...so long as it was true...and he had no reason to doubt Alex's word.

"Go home, Tim. Take a rest. You deserve it."

"Does that mean I can sleep in tomorrow?" Tim asked with a smile.

"Absolutely not."

Tim laughed. "Good night, Alex."

"Well, you finally learned my name, Tim. Congratulations."

"Now, can I sleep in?"

"No!" Alex said with a laugh. "Don't push your luck."

"I really do feel lucky. Thanks for giving me this chance."

Alex sobered although her eyes were still friendly. "I didn't choose you for this position, Tim, but I wasn't against it. You've proven yourself. I didn't do anything except my job."

"I know, but I'm still grateful."

"Go home, Tim."

"I will. Thanks."

Tim walked to his car and headed home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's off the grid, Fornell."

Fornell sighed. "Any signs before you lost him?"

"None. What do you want to do?"

"See if you can find him, but maybe I was wrong. If they start pushing you to do other work, you don't have to push back too hard."

"You're still worried."

"I am, but it might not be anything."

"I know. He was in New York last. I'll see if I can track down what direction he was headed."

"Good luck."

As the agent headed on his way, Fornell leaned back in his chair. He could get in some trouble if his surveillance was discovered, but not very much. It was worth the risk.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

"So...what have _you_ heard from him, Ziva?" Tony asked.

"From whom about what?" Ziva asked, not looking up from her work.

"From McGee, of course. Has he talked to you at all since he started at Norfolk?"

"He has sent me a few emails. That is all. He seems to be enjoying his time. It is not the same situation as his first assignment there. He is a field agent and is working with Alex Grandon. He has more responsibility."

"I'm surprised Grandon hasn't eaten him for breakfast. She must like him."

"Just because she was snappy at _you_, Tony, does not mean she is like that for everyone. Perhaps you should not have tried hitting on her."

"Oh, thanks," Tony said sarcastically...and then he looked around. Jamie was still down with Abby. "I thought he'd come back here when he finished at FLETC. I figured..."

"That everything had been fixed and we could go back in time somehow?" Ziva asked. "That will not happen, Tony. ...and really, it _should_ not happen, either. Things have changed, and McGee has changed. Perhaps Norfolk is best for him."

"Yeah, maybe. I do want him to be, you know...happy with what he's doing, but..."

"You want him to be happy here."

Tony laughed a little. "Yeah. I guess so."

"You know, he might send _you_ emails if you sent one first," Ziva suggested and then quickly got back to work when she saw Gibbs approaching.

Tony said nothing but he looked speculative.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was filling out a report when he heard Alex come in, laughing and talking with someone whose voice he didn't recognize. Curious, he looked up and saw a man grinning at her. He figured it must be the Agent Afloat who had just got into port. It made sense that Alex would be familiar with a lot of them. He almost got up to be introduced...but then, he was suddenly struck by a moment of complete anxiety and he turned back to his report without saying anything. Part of him knew that his feeling was ridiculous, but he couldn't help worrying. So, instead of acting like a normal person, Tim focused on his work rather than risk seeing more rejection.

...of course, Alex wouldn't let that last for long.

"Hey, Tim! Come on out!"

Tim got up and walked out, feeling more than a little apprehensive. Maybe it showed in his eyes because Alex raised an eyebrow at him, although she didn't say anything about it.

"Tim, this is Stan Burley. He's a perennial favorite around here. He's been an Agent Afloat for years. I swear I saw gills starting to grow on his neck last time," Alex said with a grin. "Stan, this is Tim McGee. He's my right-hand man in my never-ending quest to get an MCRT out here."

Stan laughed and put out his hand. Tim hesitated for a second and then shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. I've heard of you."

Tim swallowed nervously and cleared his throat.

"Good or bad?" he asked. "...although I probably know which it was."

"Ah, maybe not," Stan said with a friendly smile. "I've heard both."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"The bad was probably pretty bad."

"Sure...but the good was pretty good, too."

Tim could see that Stan wasn't going to elaborate on what he'd heard, nor was he going to admit to any preconceptions he might have had. He was still smiling and friendly. Tim wasn't sure why he was so worried about Stan. ...maybe it was because this was one person he didn't know at all, who had no reason to treat him well if he didn't want to...but who would have heard _something_ about him and could come to the natural conclusion, the same conclusion people had come to at FLETC.

So Tim wasn't disposed to relax in the presence of another NCIS person.

"Who...did you hear the good from?"

"Gibbs...among others."

"Gibbs?"

"Sure. I was on his team for a few years, back before DiNozzo took my desk. We keep in touch now and then. Not often, but enough that I've heard about you."

"And good?" Tim asked.

"Absolutely."

Tim chanced a smile. Alex had been standing back, letting Tim get his own footing, but she stepped forward and gestured to the desks.

"All right, Stan. Ready to report? Any troublemakers we should be watching for?"

Stan sat down. Tim sat down as well, ready to take notes, look up any of the sailors Stan might mention. Stan looked at him with a smile for his attention.

"Not much. It was a quiet trip. Very nice for me. Few scuffles. I think there are a couple of the newbies you should be ready for. They might have learned their lesson after we went ashore in Rota, but I kind of doubt it. Ensign Wallace and Ensign Salvatore. They're both hotheads. Not bad kids, but they tend not to think much, and they've been at sea for a while."

"Anyone else?" Alex asked.

"Well, not exactly."

Tim looked up. "What do you mean?"

"One of the guys on board...he wasn't acting normally. He seems nervous. Didn't cause any trouble, but I'm not the only one who noticed. One of his friends came to me to see if I could get him to talk about it, but he denies that anything is wrong. It might be nothing, but it might be something to. Just keep it in mind."

"Who is he?" Tim asked.

"A Cryptologic Technician. Name is Jordan Michaels."

"Financial problems?" Tim asked.

Stan raised his eyebrows.

"That's a good reason for being worried. People have committed crimes for less." Tim brought up Michaels' file. "He's married, has a son."

"No financial woes so far as I know," Stan said. "Like I said, it might be nothing, but if something does come up with him, it started on board."

"Midway through or before?" Alex asked.

"Probably after Rota," Stan said, leaning back in the chair and thinking about what was going on. "It definitely didn't come up before Rota."

Alex nodded. "Okay. We'll keep him in mind. How long are you in port?"

"You've got me for a couple of months if you'll have me, Alex," Stan said. "They're doing some overhauling of the carrier; so I'll be landlocked for a while."

Alex grinned. "We've always got room for you, Stan. Happy to have you."

Tim nodded, although he felt a bit anxious...and he wasn't happy that he felt that way. It was ridiculous. He'd have to get used to working with other people again.

"All right. I'm going to go check in, drop off my stuff...maybe grab a shower."

"No rush, Stan. Until your carrier lets its crew off, we won't have much to do."

Stan gave a salute and headed off. As soon as he was gone, Alex looked at Tim.

"What was that?"

"Sorry," Tim said.

"Stan's a good guy, Tim. Don't assume he's going to think the worst of you."

"Bad habit," Tim whispered. "I'm really sorry."

Alex shifted to a chair by Tim.

"Hey, it's okay. You weren't that bad. I'm just surprised. You've been fine, Tim. You passed any test I might have wanted to set you. Don't worry, and there's no reason to be afraid of what people will think of you. ...or is this about what happened at FLETC?"

"Maybe some of it," Tim said. "It's something that took me by surprise. I wasn't ready to be attacked like that...not at a place I should have been free to learn. I didn't know I'd feel the same fear here."

"Well, give Stan a chance. He's one of those people who wants nothing more than to be aboard ship. He won't give it up until he's forced to. ...and he's a nice guy. He won't judge you for what happened before. He'll go by what he sees now."

Tim chuckled a little. "Oh. Great."

Alex laughed, too. "Don't stress about it, Tim. That's an order. Why don't you pull up what we have about Jordan Michaels and see if there is anything obvious? I don't want you prying. He has his right to privacy, but we should be aware if there might be some problems."

"Okay."

"And _relax_!"

Tim laughed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that."

Tim finally relaxed a bit and went to his office to work. He noticed that he had an email...from Tony of all people. He opened it.

It was very short.

_Hey, McGee,_

_Just checking in to see how things are going over there at Norfolk. Make sure you give Agent Grandon a hard time._

_Tony_

Tim was a bit surprised at the email, but he smiled as he got back to work. He'd reply to it later.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Two days later..._

Tim was taking a break near Iowa Point. He tried to take a full lunch break to make sure he didn't let himself get too absorbed in what he was doing. They hadn't seen anything in Michaels' history to indicate that they should be worried, but they were keeping an eye on his movements...which so far had involved going home and spending time with his family. Not much to go on there. It was about a mile away from the NCIS offices; so he drove. He could have walked, but he decided he'd get a lot more time if he drove. Alex was used to his habits by now and mostly she left him to them, knowing that if Tim had trouble he'd come to her.

He walked along the water, just thinking about nothing in particular. He'd replied to Tony's email with something simple and innocuous...something along the lines of _things are going well, having a nice time_, etc. While he'd appreciated receiving the email, when it came to replying, he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to say about Stan; so he hadn't mentioned him.

Stan had been in and out while Tim and Alex were working. He had to make reports, keep in contact with the skipper. He also went to DC once to take care of his posting details while he was on land. Tim had found it easy to avoid any real conversation with him. After the awkwardness of their first meeting, which Tim could admit was his own fault, he had no real desire to repeat the experience.

Walking along the water, he took a deep breath, thinking about the time he'd spent in Maine. Part of him wished he was still up there. Alone, isolated, only the waves and wind to intrude on his life. The rest of the world was so complicated, and he still found it a bit difficult to deal with. Dr. Lewis had warned him that this could continue to come up and that was why Tim still had occasional sessions with him.

"Hey, Agent McGee! Alex said you'd be here."

Tim jumped at the voice. He turned around and saw Stan walking over.

"Oh...hi."

Stan smiled at the lackluster greeting.

"I figured that I should apologize for putting you on the spot when I first came here. I didn't realize you'd had so many troubles in coming back to NCIS. I was clumsy."

Tim laughed in surprise. Stan was apologizing for doing nothing wrong.

"Why are _you_ apologizing? I'm the one who can't seem to handle normal human interaction. You were fine. I'm the social dunce."

Stan smiled. "From what I understand, you have full license to be suspicious of people coming into your sphere. You've been burned a few times, haven't you."

Tim shrugged. "No excuse for not being able to act like a member of the human race."

"That's a total exaggeration, Agent McGee. What you said took me by surprise, but Alex told me some things about you. Ducky had some things to say when I went to DC..."

"What did Ducky say?" Tim asked, feeling leery.

"Not enough if that's your reaction. Agent McGee..."

"You can call me Tim. You don't need to be formal."

"Okay. Tim, it's none of my business, but what happened? I remember when what happened after that undercover op made the rounds...but I think we didn't get even close to all of the details in the scuttlebutt."

"I'm sure you didn't," Tim said. "Very few people are in on all the details...although it hasn't stopped them from making assumptions about me...and who I am and what I deserve." He heard the bitterness in his own voice and tried to smile. "You don't have to express any interest, you know. I'm trying to get used to the way people who've heard something look at me, the way they avoid me like my previous mental illness is contagious."

"Mental illness?"

"I had a total mental breakdown, Stan. I was committed to a psychiatric facility for nearly six months. A few months later, I had another meltdown and was in a suicidal frenzy. I spent two years trying to get to the point that I could hold conversations with people without wanting to run away and hide. ...and even now...I find that I can't really interact with my former team with any degree of normalcy. I don't hate them now. I don't blame them now. ...but the awkwardness is there every time I see them, even when I appreciate what they do."

Stan nodded silently and then they walked together for a few seconds. Stan gestured to a nearby bench and they sat down.

"I don't need to pretend to be interested, Tim. I _am_ interested, but I don't want you thinking I'm some sort of voyeur, trying to pry into your private life. I'm the last person who should be declaring that you ought to open up to other people. ...but we're going to be working together for the next couple of months, and I don't like tension...especially when it's completely unnecessary. I'll admit that I had some questions, but I trust Gibbs and I trust Alex, and both of them have assured me that you're good at your job and a good person besides. So I'm willing to set aside the negative things I've heard, and yes, I've heard them, to find out reality."

"And what's the reality you're finding so far?" Tim asked, a little cynically.

"That you're not too worried about doing your job but you're very worried about how other people perceive you. That you could be a really nice person if you'd relax enough to let people see it."

"That's it?" Tim asked, smiling a little.

"Oh, is there more?" Stan asked, almost as challenge.

"I guess there doesn't have to be. I'm not used to being described so simply."

"That's simple to you?"

Tim laughed. "Compared to the last few years? Absolutely. Stan, I spent months so angry at the world and at myself that I was on the verge of being lost forever. Even when I started pulling myself out of that...actually, I _didn't_ pull myself out. Ducky pulled me out and kept me from jumping back in...more than once. And even then, I was teetering on the brink for months. It took quite a while for me to convince myself that I wouldn't be doing NCIS a disservice by coming back to work here again."

Stan nodded with sudden understanding. "...and then, you found out that there were people felt you were doing exactly that."

"Yeah."

"Discouraging?"

Tim stared at the water. "That's a mild way of putting it, but yes."

"So...how long did it take you to accept it?"

Tim made a show of looking at his watch. "Not sure. I'll let you know. It's been a few months so far." For some reason, he didn't feel like he could leave it there. "...but I'm doing a lot better than I was. I'm living in a nice place instead of trying to keep myself as downtrodden as possible. I'm working at the job I wanted. I'm not angry anymore...or at least not all the time. I don't hate myself. ...but some days, it's still hard."

"Well, I'm not here to make it harder for you. I'm here to do my job. ...and while I know that I'm not an expert on your problems, I think you ought to try and accept that most people aren't out to get you. Whoever _was_ isn't worth your time."

"He tried to kill me," Tim said softly. "And I let him get away with it. People keep telling me that I've made a mistake in not pressing charges, especially after we found out that it wasn't an accident."

"What wasn't?"

"He punched me and knocked me down the bleachers. If I hadn't been wearing my backpack, I might have died." Tim leaned forward. "I know that he's a dangerous person, but I just can't bring myself to keep it going. He blames me for his brother's death, with good reason. He's wrong, but he has a good reason for believing it. I can't keep up the cycle of payback. Who knows where it will stop? So I'm stopping it now."

"It sounds nice, but you can't control what _he'll_ do," Stan said.

Tim looked at him. Stan seemed a little perplexed.

"You think I've made a mistake, too."

"I have to say that it doesn't _sound_ like the best idea in the world. What if this guy is seriously unhinged?"

Tim shrugged. "_I_ was seriously unhinged."

"But you didn't try to kill anyone."

"...except for myself."

"Well, I won't try to tell you what to do, but if all your friends and coworkers think it's a bad idea and you can acknowledge that it might be a mistake, why keep it up?"

"Because it's my decision, and I want it to be over."

"Your choice."

"Yeah, it is."

"Then, I won't try to tell you otherwise...but I would recommend that you give it a think, maybe alone where you're not trying to convince everyone else. You only have yourself."

"You a shrink?" Tim asked.

"Nope. Just a smart guy," Stan said with a grin.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Do that. So...tell me, is talking about your former teammates taboo...or generally unwelcome?"

"No. Talking about them is fine. Talking _to_ them is harder."

"Well...they miss you, if what I saw in DC was any indication."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when they found out that I was stationed here for a little while they grilled me on how you're doing and what you're doing, if you're happy doing what you're doing...and so on."

"They?"

"Mostly Tony and the Israeli...uh, Ziva?"

"That's right."

"But I'll tell you this: Gibbs didn't ask any questions, but he was listening."

"I wish it wasn't so awkward, but I don't know how to change it."

"So you avoid it?"

"Mostly."

"That's part of your problem, you know," Stan said. "If you force yourself to deal with the awkwardness, it'll go away eventually, especially since you all seem to _want_ to get rid of it."

Tim looked at his watched. Lunch hour was pretty much over. He stood up and Stan followed suit. They headed back toward the parking area.

"So...Stan..."

"Yeah?"

"Were you a peacemaker in another life?"

Stan laughed. "Nope. I'm just a regular guy who likes things to be on an even keel whenever possible. So I poke my nose in places where it's not even and try to balance the ship."

"Ah."

"And by the way, I'm really impressed with how easy Alex is with you. Not _on_ you. _With _you."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"She's pretty conscious of her position and being in charge makes her nervous sometimes. She tends to be pretty brusque, especially with men just because she's aware of the extra burden to prove that she can do as good a job. She's relaxed around you. Took me a year to get her over that around me."

"I'm on shakier ground."

"But she trusts you, and that's not something she just does willy-nilly. You're doing a lot right, Tim. Don't forget that."

Tim nodded.

Stan headed to his car, but Tim stopped him again.

"Hey, Stan."

"What?"

"Is that why you're so concerned with Michaels?"

"Is what why?"

"Wanting things on an even keel?"

Stan stopped and actually appeared to be thinking about it.

"That's definitely part of it. On a carrier at sea, you have hundreds of people confined to one space in a high-tension environment. Someone who throws off the balance can cause the ship to capsize...metaphorically speaking. But it's definitely more than just that. Michaels is the kind of quiet, devoted sailor you _like_ to have. ...but when things change and he's not acting like he should, you know there's an issue. Now, it might just be a personal thing that he's not willing to talk about...but he's also one of the cryptologic technicians and that means that he could be a target for something."

"So we haven't seen anything so far. No sign of money trouble, no sign of lots of extra money, no sign of his being followed or watched by anyone but us. What do we do to fix your balance?"

Stan sighed. "I don't know. That's the biggest problem. I'm afraid that we won't figure it out until it's too late to do anything."

Tim considered for a few seconds. "You should go to his house."

"Why?"

"What if _he's_ not being watched but his family is?"

Stan nodded slowly and then with more certainty. "You're right. Let's go!"

"Now?"

"Lunch is over. I'd rather not go without backup. I'll call Alex on our way over. You want to take my car or yours?"

"Uh...I don't care."

"Okay, we'll take yours. Let's go!"

Tim allowed Stan to urge him into the car and they headed off base to Michaels' home. As they drove over, Tim couldn't help but be surprised at how quickly his suggestion was accepted and implemented.

He just hoped it wasn't a mistake.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The Michaels family didn't live large, probably couldn't afford it, but the house, while small, was well-kept.

...and empty. It was apparent from the moment they pulled into the driveway. The house felt abandoned. Whether it had been abandoned willingly or under duress was another matter. As soon as they got out of the car, Tim's stomach started churning. There was something wrong.

"I don't like this," Stan said softly.

Tim was gratified that Stan was feeling the same as he was, but still, his stomach churned.

"I don't either," Tim said and pulled out his gun.

Stan followed suit and they walked to the front door. Stan knocked.

"Jordan Michaels. It's Agent Burley from the _HST_," he called.

No response. Tim took a couple of steps to the side and peered in through the front window.

"Stan, I can see something...someone lying on the floor, just out of sight."

Stan nodded, paused for a moment to let Tim get into position and then kicked down the door. They moved in together, as if they'd done it hundreds of times before. They cleared the front rooms and then Tim hurried over to the body on the floor. He knelt down while Stan cleared the rest of the house.

It was a woman. She'd been shot. There was blood on the floor, but...

"She's alive, Stan!" Tim called and pulled out his cell phone.

Stan came in as Tim made the 911 call. He knelt down and checked the wound. As he turned the woman over, she moaned a little, coming slightly conscious. Her eyes opened but she wasn't entirely connected with reality.

"Jordan...Mark..."

"Mrs. Michaels?" Tim asked softly.

"Help..." Her voice was so faint.

"We're going to help you," Stan said. He looked at Tim gravely.

Tim knew what he was thinking. This was Jordan Michaels' wife, and there was no sign of Jordan himself or their son. They had been too late.

...but it wasn't too late to save this woman here. Tim focused on her, although there was a part of him that was cursing the revelation that had come too late. Still, he forced himself to work with Stan to keep Jordan Michaels' wife alive. Stan had run out to get the first aid kit and was now pressing gauze against the gunshot wound just below her armpit.

They didn't talk much. Mrs. Michaels was in no shape to be questioned, and Tim and Stan were focused on keeping her alive long enough to get more help than they could give.

It was only two minutes later that the EMTs arrived. Tim let Stan give all the information. He moved himself into the background even before he had time to realize what he was doing. Stan raised an eyebrow but made no comment. He just helped get Mrs. Michaels into the ambulance. While he was gone, Tim almost wilted onto a bench in the front hall, hardly conscious of why this was so difficult for him to accept. When, Stan came back, Tim didn't even look up. He just stared at the floor.

"Tim?"

"We were too late," Tim said in a low voice. He was struggling against the feeling of failure that would always be a problem for him.

"We weren't too late to save one life, and we may be able to save others because you thought to check here."

"But it was too late. Michaels and his son are gone. Maybe they're already dead...or worse."

Stan sat down beside Tim.

"This is one of your ongoing problems, isn't it."

"What?" Tim asked, not really listening.

"Assuming that you've done something wrong?"

Tim lifted his head and looked at Stan in surprise. He hadn't really mentioned it before.

"You're a perfectionist, aren't you," Stan said calmly.

He seemed excessively calm, almost as if he was not going to let himself get worked up no matter what.

"In my worse moments," Tim said.

"Like now?"

"Oh...this is pretty mild for me."

"And can you set it aside? See what we can find here?"

Tim nodded. Stan patted him on the shoulder.

"Then, let's get going."

"All right." Tim took a breath and pushed it away. "Where do you want to start first?"

"I don't have a real sense of this place," Stan admitted. "Most of my investigations take place in the same location. A carrier. Now, that carrier has a lot of spaces on it, but I'm used to them." He looked around. "...a house is almost a foreign place to me at this point. What do _you_ think?"

"This isn't your way of trying to make me feel better, is it?" Tim asked.

"We don't have time for that right now," Stan said. "I'm just trying to get started."

Tim laughed. "Okay. Well, it's clear that she was shot here. It doesn't look like she moved. But if both Jordan Michaels and his son were also taken from here...then, there has to be some sign of it. How long ago did they leave? Had to be long enough for them to get away without rushing because surely someone would say something if they'd heard signs of a struggle. This is a fairly nice neighborhood, not ritzy by any means, but all the houses here look nice."

"But no one reported the gunshot. That would have been heard."

"Unless they came prepared for it," Tim said.

"Silencers."

"Yeah...but whether they took Mark first or second, there would have been _some_ struggle. A boy isn't going to let a stranger just grab him without fighting a little, without crying out."

"All right. We start in the kid's room, then."

"I'm just glad we didn't find _three_ bodies here."

"Me, too."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There's still nothing, Fornell."

Fornell leaned back in his seat. Maybe he'd been wrong all this time. It wouldn't be the first time he was wrong about something, but he had been so sure that there was a big risk involved here. Going on three months with no sign at all. He wasn't sure whether that was a bigger worry than anything else.

"What do you want me to do?"

Fornell sighed.

"Cut back. I don't want to drain our resources with nothing to show for it, but keep an eye out, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Left alone again, Fornell considered again. There was no doubting that there was something going on, but the problem was that there were too many options.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As Tim had said, there was some disorder in Mark Michaels' room. Enough that it couldn't be chalked up to simple childhood sloppiness. The boy had either been taken from his room or else heard disorder elsewhere. Upon that suggestion, Stan agreed to spread out and look for a sign of entrance. Alex was talking to the neighbors, seeing what, if anything, they had heard that morning.

Tim continued to document the room, searching for prints, hairs, fibers, anything that might tell them the story of who had come into the Michaels' home.

"Hey, Tim! I found something here!" Stan called.

Tim followed his voice and saw Stan kneeling by the closet in the only other bedroom in the house.

"What is it?" Tim asked.

"Looks like our Marine didn't go quietly," Stan said.

Tim looked past him into the small closet. There was a body there, and it was definitely a body. The bullet hole near the center of the forehead and the unseeing eyes removed any possibility of life. Tim swallowed as memories from the previous year asserted themselves. He backed out of view of the man and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Hey, you all right?"

"I'm...fine. Just...bad memories." He shook his head in frustration at his own visceral reaction to a dead body. This was his job! He shook his head again pushing away the old feelings, hoping Stan wouldn't ask anything more.

Stan nodded and let the moment pass. "I didn't see him before, but I...uh...I knocked a couple of things off their hangers...and there he was."

Tim smiled a little, getting back some of his equilibrium.

"See this?" Stan asked. "The wood's chipped along the frame here, and it's new damage."

"How can you tell?"

Stan looked up and grinned. "Because I was eager to please when I first started working under Gibbs. I found out that he worked with wood; so I figured I had to do the same...and when I realized that I was a miserable failure at woodworking, I decided that I had better know everything there was to know about wood." He shrugged. "Didn't help Gibbs learn my name for the first year, but it _has_ come in handy on occasion; so I guess it wasn't a waste. This is new damage, although I can't guarantee that it's new enough to be from our kidnappers. ...but there are some fibers here that might help us out."

Tim nodded and headed back to grab an evidence bag. Before he got out of the room, he stopped and turned back.

"We need to call Alex. She will _kill_ me if I don't let her in on a major crime scene."

Stan smiled. "Do it. I'll collect the evidence here. We're going to need to get an ME here anyway...to deal with our dead body."

"Yeah." Tim's mind went automatically to Ducky even though Ducky had retired. From there, he thought of Jimmy working hard in Ducky's place...and then to the fact that the MCRT was going to be involved. "Yeah."

"Does everyone already know your life story, Tim? Because I feel like every pause in the conversation contains years worth of information that I'm not included in."

"You know the basics. Everything else is just details."

"That you don't want to share?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Go call Alex."

Tim nodded and left the room. He headed for the front of the house and pulled out his phone. It hadn't been long since he'd called Alex.

"_Alex. What's up, Tim?"_

"We were too late, Alex," Tim said. "Jordan Michaels and his son, Mark, are both missing. His wife was shot but she's still alive so far. Stan found a dead man in the closet."

"_A dead body...double kidnapping...attempted murder... You know what this means, Tim."_

"You'll be calling in an MCRT to investigate."

"_You mean that I'll be calling in Gibbs and his team. You ready for that?"_

"Yes. I've known that it would come up eventually," Tim said, keeping his voice even. "I'm not going to be bothered by it."

"_Tim...how bad?"_

"Stan didn't let me freak out too much," Tim admitted. "It'll be fine."

"_Okay. I'll make the call to DC and I'll be over there myself in a few minutes. ...and Tim?"_

"Yeah?"

"_You didn't do anything wrong here, okay?"_

"You tired of reassuring me yet?"

"_Not yet."_

"Thanks, Alex. I'm fine."

"_See you in a few minutes."_

"We'll be here."

Tim hung up and thought about what would be shortly coming. Yes, he'd be at the house.

...and so would his old team. Again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"And Nate keeps insisting that our son is going to break every record ever set by a child," Jamie said with a smile. She'd already shown pictures nearly every day. They'd talked about whether or not she'd stay full-time at NCIS or if she'd cut back to be at home more. It was something that had been the subject of a lot of discussion between her and her husband, but there was time to figure it out.

"Has he yet?" Ziva asked.

"No," Jamie said and laughed. "Nate says Danny is just a slow starter. Once he gets going, there will be no stopping him. I keep telling him that Danny is doing just fine as he is. There's no reason he has to break records."

Gibbs' phone rang. He answered it as Jamie continued chatting with Tony and Ziva.

"Gibbs."

"_Agent Gibbs. This is Agent Grandon."_

Gibbs waited. She sounded pretty serious.

"_We've got a case that needs an MCRT. Cryptologic technician has been kidnapped, along with his son. Wife was shot. One DB so far unidentified."_

"Suspicions?"

"_Michaels had been acting out of character. Tim and Stan went over to his house to see if they could find out what was going on. When they got there, they found the crime scene. They're currently starting the investigation."_

"Okay. We'll be there as soon as we can. Don't forget that..."

"_We can't touch the body. I know, Gibbs."_

"Good. We'll be there in a few hours. As fast as we can."

"_We'll be looking forward to it."_

"All of you?"

"_Tim is ready to work with you."_

"You sure of that?"

"_He's a little awkward but he's doing his job and he isn't afraid of you."_

"Got it."

Gibbs disconnected.

"Gear up. We're headed to Norfolk. Davidson, you ready for a long day?"

"Always, Gibbs," Jamie said.

"Norfolk?" Tony asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Team out there has a new case. Kidnapping, attempted murder...and a dead body."

"I will get Jimmy moving."

Gibbs nodded. There was some anticipation on the faces of his team and a knowing smile on Jamie's face. They were all wanting to have more extensive conversations with Tim, and this was the chance they'd been waiting for: a case that would have them working together.

They had a chance to see Tim back to work, even if it wasn't permanently with them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"They're coming?" Tim asked when Alex arrived.

"Of course. Do you want me to send you conveniently out of the way?" she asked with a smile.

"No, of course not. This is my job. I'm fine...just a little rattled...a lot rattled."

"He's been fine, Alex," Stan said coming up behind him. "He got _me_ straight on how to investigate a house. Do you know how long it's been since I've investigated a crime that occured in something made of wood?"

Alex laughed. "I have no idea. Show me what you've found. Gibbs and company are on their way, but there's no sense in leaving all this for them to do when we're perfectly capable of doing it ourselves."

Tim nodded and took Alex to the closet where the dead man was lying. There were other things, but this was first on the list. Stan was documenting the bedroom, looking out for places where there might be fingerprints, hairs, things of that nature to gather up, some sign of conflict.

There was a lot to do and Alex was clearly determined to get as much done as possible before the MCRT showed up. Her continuing campaign to get an MCRT in Norfolk. They might still have to send things to the lab in DC, but this would shorten the time between a crime being committed and the beginning of the investigation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I can't do what you want me to do!" Jordan said. "Please...please, just let Mark go!"

"Now, we can't do that. I know that you have the ability and the access to get what we want."

"But I _don't_! I'm not high enough!"

"You have the skills. You aren't denying that, I noticed."

Jordan shook his head. "I don't! I can't do what you want! I can't break into–"

"If you want to see your son alive again..." he gestured and one of the other men in the room opened the door long enough for Jordan to hear his son crying for his dad.

"Let him go! Mark is no use to you!"

"Oh, yes, he is. Right now, he's just scared and wants his daddy. How long do you think that will last if we actually get started on him?"

The man pulled out a mass of wires.

"Do you know what this is?"

"No."

"It's something that is often used to...encourage people to talk. Now, of course, your son doesn't know anything, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt him. Keep that in mind if you try to refuse us again."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are we there yet?" Tony asked.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and didn't answer.

"Tony, McGee will be there whether Gibbs breaks the sound barrier or not."

"I'm just anxious to get going on the case. That's all," Tony said quickly.

"Yes, I am sure of that."

Tony shrugged a little. "I'll bet _you're_ just as interested in seeing how he's doing at NCIS again. It's been a long time and he's come a long way."

"I did not try to pretend otherwise," Ziva said. "_I_ want to see him happier than he was at his FLETC graduation."

"It _is_ okay to be happy about seeing him, you know," Jamie said with a grin. "You're acting like it's some kind of shameful emotion."

"I am not!" Tony protested.

"Have you all forgotten that we're investigating a kidnapping?" Gibbs said tersely. "This isn't a reunion."

"Not at all, Gibbs. We are killing two birds with one stone, are we not?"

Gibbs just grunted and focused on driving. There would be enough to worry about without adding Tim's possible reaction to working with them to it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They had done all they could do until the MCRT arrived with Jimmy. Stan was watching Tim with interest. They all knew that the MCRT would be coming soon...and they all knew that Tim was nervous about it...but they weren't commenting on it. They were just waiting.

When the sedan pulled up, Tim visibly stiffened. Stan raised an eyebrow and Tim just smiled and shrugged a little. Then, he walked over to the car and greeted his former teammates. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but he did it. When the Autopsy van pulled up, Tim was clearly much happier to see Jimmy as he got out. He walked over and talked with him and then followed him around the truck to help him get his stuff out.

"How's it going?" Tony asked.

Stan smiled because it was clear that he was really asking about Tim, not about the case. Still, Alex answered as if it were the case.

"We have a dead body we need to identify. We've photographed the house, gathered samples and processed the scene all around. Michaels' wife is in critical condition last we heard," Alex said. "If you want to double-check feel free, but we were thorough."

"We'll need to look over everything," Gibbs said, "but I'm sure that you were very thorough."

"Agent Gibbs, Tim and I are going to start checking the body and prepping it for transport," Jimmy said.

"All right, Dr. Palmer," Gibbs said.

Stan could see a bit of hesitancy on Jimmy's part. He and Gibbs were being excessively formal, but there _was_ respect there. It was just that they hadn't figured out how to treat each other yet. From what Stan had learned from Ducky, Jimmy had gone from the bottom of the NCIS totem pole to on par with Gibbs' authority. Jimmy was completely competent, but still a little uncertain about taking on all the authority.

Jimmy and Tim went into the house and Stan could hear them talking easily. Clearly, Tony and Ziva had noticed as well.

"You want an update on Michaels, Gibbs? Or do you want to walk through the house, first?" Stan asked.

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva and then at Jamie.

"Jamie, come with Stan and me. We're going to talk to Michaels' CO. Tony, Ziva, have Alex bring you up to speed on everything here. Keep up to date on Michaels' wife. If she can talk, that will be great, but..."

"...right now, that's not happening," Alex finished for him. "And it may not. She may not pull through. The doctor said that it was going to be touch and go for a while. If Tim and Stan had come a little bit later, she'd be dead." Then, Alex smiled a little. "Of course, that's not how Tim sees it. He sees that they delayed coming too long...but that's what he's always like."

"Always?" Gibbs asked.

"When things are important, he stresses about getting it right...but so far, he always has. It's just a matter of keeping him going."

Gibbs nodded and then looked over at Tony and Ziva. He smiled a little. They were clearly eager to get going...on what exactly was up in the air.

"Let's go, Stan."

"On your six, Gibbs," Stan said with a grin. "...but after you, Agent Davidson."

"Jamie."

"All right. After you, Jamie."

Jamie nodded with a smile and headed over to the car. As they headed over to the base, Gibbs was quiet for a few minutes.

"Tim's doing a great job, Gibbs," Stan said. "I'm enjoying working with him. If I was going to stay on land...which isn't going to happen any time soon, I'd love being on a team with him...and you can tell Vance that Alex is right. Having an MCRT out here would be great."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Stan turned around in his seat.

"So, Jamie, I hear you've got a kid?"

"Yeah. One. Nate and I had talked about my cutting back on my hours at NCIS, but so far, we've been working well having me full time and him part time. I may just stay on Gibbs' team until they get tired of me."

Stan saw Gibbs smile knowingly at her statement, but he made no comment. There was something between Gibbs and Jamie about her position but it wasn't being discussed.

"That's what I say about being an Agent Afloat. I'm there as long as they'll let me."

"So...did Michaels give you any hint that there was a problem?"

"No," Stan said. "Or actually, I should say that he didn't _tell_ me there was a problem, but he was acting differently. I just wasn't sure what it was. Tim is the one who thought that his family might be under threat. I wish we'd thought of that sooner, but it's hard to know exactly what will be necessary."

"How high was his access?"

"High enough to be worrisome but not so high that he's the obvious choice. The CMC will know more."

"Tell me about him," Gibbs said.

"CMC Charles Perry. He takes his position as the mediator between officers and enlisted very seriously. He's not necessarily everyone's friend, but the sailors all know that they can trust him. He's gone to bat for them before, but he doesn't take any guff from anyone. If he knows something, he'll tell you, and he'll be able to give you more information about Michaels' position and his skill level."

"And you're sure that this is about his position?"

"Honestly, Boss...unless I've read Jordan Michaels completely wrong, he's not important enough for anything else. He's a good guy, but he's not well-connected and he's not the guy who's breaking the law."

"So he's a cryptologic technician and he's missing...along with his son."

"Exactly."

Gibbs sped up a bit.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How's it going, Tim?" Jimmy asked as they knelt down beside the dead man.

"I had a momentary freakout seeing this guy," Tim confessed. "Too much like Corporal Smythe."

"Oh, yeah. Other than that, though? You were okay?"

"More or less. You know I'm still having trouble with blaming myself too much for mistakes. Stan stepped up and helped me through that."

Jimmy smiled. "Nice of him."

"Yeah. Did you meet him?"

"Only briefly in DC. You know him better than I do."

"Oh. He's a nice guy, but I don't quite get him."

Jimmy pulled out the liver probe.

"Liver temperature puts time of death at about ten hours ago. The body is cool enough that this is more of an estimate...but it wasn't too long before you guys got here."

"I wish we had got here sooner."

Jimmy nodded. "It's okay, though, Tim. There's no way you could have known that this was going to happen. As soon as you thought of it, you came."

"Yeah, I know. I just hate it," Tim said and laughed a little. "I haven't talked to Ducky for a few days. How's he doing?"

Jimmy started prepping the body for transport.

"I think he's having way more fun than he should. He pops into NCIS sometimes, but he's loving giving guest lectures."

"I can see that," Tim said with a smile.

They got the dead man into the bag and onto the stretcher. Then, they moved it out of the closet. Alex was explaining what they'd found in Mark's room as they came out. Tony and Ziva waved.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said with a smile. "What's the verdict, Dr. Palmer?"

"Right now, gunshot to the head, but of course, I never know what I'll find when we get back to NCIS," Jimmy said.

"Of course. Alex has loads of stuff for us to get to Abby. She'll be practically salivating to get her hands on it."

"Definitely," Tim agreed. "Have you seen anything that we missed?"

"Not so far," Ziva said. "We have taken some photos. It helps get them in my head if I have done it myself. Gibbs will not let this stand for long."

"Yeah, not with a kid missing."

"What do you think?" Tony asked. "Is the kid leverage?"

"That's my guess," Tim said. "Stan said that Michaels' had access to data that might be worth nabbing him over. If his son was threatened..."

"We will not let this go," Ziva said. "Whoever took Jordan and Mark Michaels will be caught and they will pay."

"I'm going to get our DB back to NCIS," Jimmy said. "The sooner we can get some kind of ID on him, the better."

"Wait just a sec," Tony said. "I'll see if Gibbs wants us to go back with you and get Abby on the evidence."

He pulled out his phone and called over.

"I have not seen you in some time," Ziva said. "How are you, Tim?"

Tim shrugged a little. "Not bad. I'm liking working at Norfolk much better this time than I did the first time. Of course...I wasn't working for Alex the first time."

Alex grinned. "And you were in a closet."

"Right. That, too."

Tony hung up.

"Ziva, we're going back with Jimmy. Gibbs wants the processing to start as soon as possible."

"Tell Vance that if we had our own MCRT out here, we could get things going a lot faster," Alex said.

"I think he's heard it enough that he won't forget," Tony said. "But I'll tell him."

"Thanks."

They headed out, leaving Alex and Tim alone.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Awkward, but okay."

"Any temptation to go back to DC?"

Tim thought about it. "Not really. I'd like to feel easier around them than I do now, but I like working here. It's...an adventure, something different from what I've done."

"Good. Now...we still have work to do, even if headquarters has all the materials. We need to start figuring out how these people picked Michaels out and how they tracked him down...and when."

"Yeah...before anyone gets hurt," Tim said softly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Don't hurt him," Michaels begged. "Please!"

"Then, do what I told you."

"I've tried!"

"Try again...or should we start on your son again?"

There was a shrill cry from the other room.

_Please, forgive me,_ Michaels thought...and started to work.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chaper 16**

Gibbs, Jamie and Stan came back to the NCIS office after talking to the skipper and CMC on the _Nimitz_. Tony and Ziva had reported that Abby was diving into all the evidence and would get it processed as quickly as she could.

"What did you find, Gibbs?" Alex asked.

They had gathered in the center of the office. Tim had a moment of whimsy where he thought that Tony would love this. It would be like a campfire every day. It brought an unexpected smile to his face which he quickly suppressed when Gibbs looked at him.

"Michaels is devoted to his family," Jamie said. "They're all he talks about. If they have his son, whoever they are, they have the perfect bargaining chip."

Gibbs nodded. "We need to find him sooner rather than later."

"How much access did he have?" Alex asked.

"It's not his access that's really problem," Stan said.

"What is?"

"It's his skill."

Alex looked at Stan and then at Gibbs.

"He's much more skilled than his level of access indicates."

"So they could use him to get further than they might have otherwise. Someone higher up would be watched more closely," Tim said. "They must have been aware of him for a while."

"The CMC said that he'd noticed something was wrong and tried to talk to him about it, but Michaels wouldn't admit to anything."

"Could he pinpoint a time?" Tim asked. "What if they'd sent him some kind of communication while they were at sea?"

Gibbs looked at him speculatively, and Tim actually flinched for a moment before regaining control. It had been a long time since he'd been under Gibbs' intent gaze and he'd forgotten how piercing it could be. He looked at Alex.

"Do you mind if I commandeer your agent for a while?" he asked.

Alex looked at Tim and grinned.

"Tim, are you all right with that?"

Tim smiled back. "Yeah, I think I can handle it. What do you want, Gibbs?"

"I want you to see if there's anything on the _Nimitz_ to find out _when_ Michaels got contacted by them."

"Of course."

"Good. Let's go."

"So how was he?" Abby asked.

"You've seen him lots," Tony said.

"But not on a case! Was he okay working on a case?"

"Yeah. He seemed fine to me."

"Yes. He was, perhaps, a bit uncertain about working with us, but he was just as good at his job as he ever was," Ziva said. "He seemed quite happy actually. It was nice to see."

"That's good. What about this case?"

"We've got fingerprints, some hairs, some other stuff that we haven't identified, and blood. Jimmy has a DB. He'll probably be sending you samples soon."

"Great!"

"Michaels' son was taken as well. We are afraid that they may be using him as collateral."

"Oh." Abby's face fell. "Then, I'll get to work right now and get everything done!"

Tony and Ziva headed back up to the bullpen. They wanted to go back to Norfolk, but it would be a long drive and it was already getting late.

"I guess we should get other work done," Ziva said.

"Yeah. I guess so. We can bug Tim later."

"Yes."

"Okay. So we have an unidentified dead guy and we have Michaels. His wife is in critical condition. His son is missing, along with him. What first?"

"We should see if Michaels has anything in his past that would make him more susceptible to this...and how did they know about him in the first place?"

Tony nodded. The case was really important, but they couldn't help wanting to see more of Tim, to see how he was doing. They would have to put it off until the case was done. They both buckled down and tried to get more information on what had sparked this abduction. Tony and Ziva worked in silence for a while.

"When this is done, we should do more," Ziva said softly.

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late for getting started on something new, but Tim didn't mind. He did feel a little awkward as they headed to the _Nimitz_. Working with Gibbs on a real case felt strange. They walked to the dock in silence...until they got to the gangway.

"How's it going, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Fine."

"You like working here?"

Tim thought about whether or not Gibbs wanted him to be honest...but with everything that had gone on, did it really matter?

"Yeah, I do. I really like Alex, and she was willing to give me a chance, even though she knew what had been going on before I attended FLETC. It's been a good way to get back into working for NCIS again."

"I'm glad."

"Really?"

Gibbs nodded. "Believe it or not, Tim, all of us just want you to be happy with what you're doing. After the last couple years, you deserve that much."

Tim nodded. "Thanks, Gibbs."

"You're welcome."

They started up the gangway. Tim decided to go for a little bit more honesty.

"It feels weird not to call you _Boss_ anymore."

"You weren't for a while."

"I know, but I wasn't really in my right mind, either."

Gibbs smiled.

"You could call me that if you want. I don't care."

"It doesn't feel right, though. You're not my boss anymore, Gibbs," Tim said. "It feels more strange to pretend than it does to accept that things are different."

"Whatever works."

"Yeah."

They got on board and got permission to start looking through the records at Michaels' station. Tim threw himself into it as he always did, sifting through the files, trying to find something that would be hidden. After about an hour, he looked over at the CMC and then at Gibbs.

"Gibbs...I think...I need to be logged in as if I'm Michaels."

"Why?"

"Because there's nothing just in the regular files, and I could dig deeper, but...I'd have to...dig deeper."

Gibbs smiled, and for a moment it was just like old times. He straightened and gestured to the CMC.

"What is it, Agent Gibbs?"

"Would it be possible for Agent McGee to get into the records as if he were Michaels?"

"Why?"

Gibbs gestured to Tim.

"I have a hunch that these people...they didn't pick Michaels at random. Obviously, they knew who he was and what he could do. If they knew all that, they also might be able to send him private messages that wouldn't show up in the normal manner. ...and if Michaels was afraid for his family, he might also have hidden them."

The CMC looked at Tim for a long moment, just long enough that Tim started to wonder if he had heard stories about the newest agent at Norfolk.

"Okay. I'll get someone to get you in."

"Thank you," Tim said, but he turned and stared at the screen in silence for a little while.

"What is it, McGee?"

"Is it just my imagination? Am I paranoid or do you think he's heard about me?"

Gibbs looked in the direction the CMC had gone.

"I didn't notice anything."

"So...paranoid."

"It's possible, but we established a while ago that I'm not perfect."

Tim laughed a little and tried to relax. Even if the CMC _had_ heard about him, that was no reason to let it make him uptight. That was something that he needed to work on, still. He took a breath and waited. The CMC came back and gave Tim the access he'd requested. Tim thanked him without any comment and then started looking again. He forgot about Gibbs being there. He didn't notice that the CMC stayed there to see what he was doing. He just started to search for what he was sure would be there. He didn't know what it would be exactly, but he was sure it would be there.

Time passed without his notice until suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.

"McGee?"

He jumped and turned.

"What?"

"It's getting late."

"We don't have time to waste, Gibbs," Tim said. "But you don't have to be here. It could take a while. There's a lot of stuff for me to go through. If you don't mind, I'll keep at it and see what I can find. If I find it, I'll you know. You and Jamie could get back to DC tonight." Then, he smiled. "You know Alex wouldn't mind if you let her take the helm here."

Gibbs smiled. "You sure?"

"I'm positive, Gibbs," Tim said. He was relieved to realize that he wasn't feeling nervous. This made sense _and_ he also knew that Alex would want it to be this way. "I'll call, and if there's something to process, I'll drive to DC myself."

Gibbs looked at him for a few seconds and then he nodded.

"Get some sleep tonight."

Tim grinned. "I will. Promise."

"Okay. Keep us in the loop and we'll do the same."

"Right."

Gibbs looked at the CMC who nodded.

"I'll tell Alex."

"Thanks. I'll keep at this for another hour and then I'll take a break."

Gibbs nodded and left him to it. Tim looked back at the computer and started searching anew. Unfortunately, he didn't make the discovery he wanted. Still, he looked back. The CMC was still there.

"Okay, there's still quite a bit for me to go through, but I'm getting a little foggy."

"When will you be coming back?"

"Early in the morning. Six?"

"Of course. Someone will be available to let you in here."

"Great." He started to walk away.

"Agent McGee?"

He turned back. "Yes, Master Chief?"

"I'd like to apologize."

"For what?"

"You noticed, I could tell."

"I did."

The CMC put out his hand.

"I appreciate the work you're doing to find CT Michaels. I've heard things about you, but they were unwarranted and I should know better than to listen to gossip."

Tim smiled and shook his hand. "Thanks. I appreciate you saying so."

As he left, he couldn't help smiling to himself. It was so nice to have someone saying positive things about him..._to_ him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There he was. It was about time. It was getting close to eleven. He couldn't wait around forever. He watched as Tim drove off the base...and he followed him to his apartment. Apparently, there was a case going on. That meant that there would be a lot of movement around. This might be the perfect opportunity.

He smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stan thought back over the day. It had been interesting to see Tim in all the different positions today. He'd been working with Tim on a case, interacting with his old team, in a more informal situation. There were a lot of things going on in Tim's life, but Stan found that he was impressed with how far he'd come from what Stan had heard about him a year or so ago.

All in all, Stan enjoyed working with Tim and he couldn't wait to see what the next day brought. The more Tim worked with his old team, the easier it would be.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stepped into his apartment with a sigh of relief. It was later than he'd intended, but he had a feeling of satisfaction that he'd been able to do some work...after having a near-meltdown at the beginning. He could get used to this work again. It might take some time, but he was finally feeling like he had a chance to get back into the groove of being an agent again...and he enjoyed the work.

As he fended off Jethro's exuberant greetings, he was glad that he had a dog-walker. It was much too late to go out now. Tim yawned and got ready for bed as quickly as he could.

He walked into his bedroom and smiled at the sad-looking bear sitting on his bed. It was probably the ugliest stuffed animal he'd ever seen. ...and he loved it. Even though talking to them was awkward still, Tim couldn't even express how much he appreciated what they'd tried to do with the teddy bear that had been so cruelly destroyed. It was something he looked at every night to remind him of it.

"I should talk to them more, Jethro," he said softly. "I want to see if we can be friends again. I just... It's so much easier just to be _here_. But maybe...maybe if I find something tomorrow morning, I can take it over to DC and...and not be so awkward. What do you think?"

Jethro barked and jumped up on the bed and then licked Tim's face.

"Thank you for your vote, Jethro. Now, it's time for bed."

Tim lay down and went to sleep almost instantly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Morning came much too soon for Tim. He groaned when his alarm went off, but he knew that there was so much to do. He _had_ to get up. So he dragged himself out of bed, fending off Jethro as he headed for the bathroom. Jethro never seemed upset about getting up early. Tim felt differently.

Still, he got ready as quickly as he could. Then, he took Jethro out for his morning run, although it wasn't much of a run this time. Jethro did his business, but as they started heading back, Jethro began to growl. Tim looked around.

"What is it, Jethro?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

There was an alley just up the block. He'd walked past it quite a few times and Jethro had never been bothered. What could be wrong?

But Jethro planted his feet and wouldn't walk any further.

"What if we cross the street, huh, boy? Is that okay?"

Jethro just kept growling at the alley.

"Okay. Let's go back to the crosswalk and we'll take the other side of the street."

Tim pulled on Jethro's leash and led him back down the street. He resisted for a moment but then went willingly enough. When they were level with the alley, Tim tried to see down it, but it was too dark. Jethro had been with him through too much for him not to trust the dog's judgment about things like that. They headed home, crossing the street only at the last intersection before his apartment building. When they got inside, Tim wondered what could have been in that alley...or _who_ could have been in that alley.

Regardless, he knelt down and hugged Jethro and then scratched behind his ears in the way that his dog loved and smiled.

"Good boy, Jethro. Good boy. I'm off to work and I may be a long time, but Tammy will walk you like usual. So have fun and don't tear up the place while I'm gone."

Jethro just panted contentedly until Tim stopped scratching his ears. Then, he went over and had his breakfast. Tim looked at him fondly and then hurried down to the parking garage. He enjoyed the added security of parking his car in the garage, and with how Jethro had acted, he was doubly grateful for it.

Even so, he got into his car as quickly as he could and headed back to the base.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stan took himself on board the _Nimitz_ to check on Tim when he realized that Tim was there already. It was about 1000 hours and he had been going through the interviews with Alex, trying to add in his own information. She wanted him to look in on Tim to see how things were going while she made a report to Gibbs in DC.

When Stan got on board, he was directed back to Michaels' work station where Tim was focused on the screen in front of him. He didn't look up when Stan came in and it wasn't until Stan had said his name multiple times that he actually stopped working.

"How long have you been here, Tim?" he asked.

"Uh...what time is it?"

"About 1000 hours."

"Oh. Three and half hours, I think? I _know_ there's something to find here. I just don't know what it is. Was there something?"

"Just wanted to check in. Alex likes knowing how things are going, you know."

Tim smiled. "Yeah, I know. If I could just figure out what I'm missing..."

"Well, you need anything?"

"Nope. I'm good. CMC and I have reached an understanding and all is well."

Stan chuckled at Tim's phrasing.

"Great. Then, I'll leave you to it. What are you trying to find?"

"Something sent in advance, something that would explain how Michaels got contacted. Clearly, he knew that there was something wrong and that it would be dangerous to talk about it. That means contact, but it's not in his emails and I think it has to be somewhere. I just don't know where."

Something pinged on Stan's consciousness as Tim was speaking. He was nodding and then it hit him.

"And if they were contacting him in advance...then, they would have been at that house a lot earlier than we thought. You're a genius, Tim! I'm going to go check it out. I'll let Alex know you're in a world of your own and get over the Michaels' house."

Tim waved vaguely at him and dove back into his work. Stan almost ran off the carrier and back to the office.

"Alex, I'm going back to the Michaels' house."

"What for?" she asked.

"Tim is looking for information sent in advance. What if these guys were in the Michaels' house a long time in advance, too? That changes where we look for fingerprints and things that."

Alex thought about it and nodded. "Okay. Let's go. That sounds better than what I'm doing...which is just reviewing the stuff we already know. Two is better than one and I can't help Tim with what _he's_ doing."

Stan chuckled. "Neither can I. He seems to be enjoying himself."

"Good."

They headed out of the office together and Stan drove over to the Michaels' home.

"So...will you keep Tim on your team?" he asked on the way over.

Alex smiled.

"Why are you asking, Stan? Tim gets seasick; so you'll never get him to be an Agent Afloat."

"Not going to ask that."

"So what do you mean?"

"What if Gibbs tries to get him back? Would you let him go?"

Alex furrowed her brow.

"Why are you asking? Has he said anything to you?"

"No. I just know Gibbs. He'll feel like he has priority because Tim was on his team first, and I can see him trying to get Tim back on his team."

"And do you think Tim would go?"

"I don't know. I don't know Tim as well as I know Gibbs. Tim seems quite happy here."

Alex thought about it for a few minutes and then shrugged. "If Tim wants to go back to DC, I'm hardly going to force him to stay here...but I won't worry about it until the time comes...if it ever does. If he wants to stay, I'll be more than happy to keep him. He's a good worker and has more than proved his abilities."

They reached the Michaels' home.

"Stan, I won't fight Gibbs for Tim...unless Tim himself wants to stay...and then, Gibbs might meet his match," Alex said and grinned.

Stan laughed. He rather thought that it might be kind of fun to see that.

...but they had work to do and for now, that would take precedence.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim worked on the computer, wondering if he was just crazy and there really wasn't anything to find...but then...after six hours...

"There it is," he whispered.

It was encrypted, as he'd half-expected, but it was there. Michaels had hidden it, more than likely. If it was a threat, he wouldn't want to risk anyone knowing...and Michaels was _good_. A cryptologic technician, facile with all kinds of encryption. Tim wasn't sure that he could crack it himself here.

"Master Chief?" Tim called.

The CMC came over.

"What is it, Agent McGee?"

"I think I've found what I was looking for: emails...but they're encrypted. Do I have your permission to take these and turn them over to NCIS in DC so we can figure out what they say?"

"Of course. Anything you need. Make sure you give me a list of what you're taking."

"Absolutely."

Tim compiled a list of the files as he copied them onto a flash drive. After he got everything on, he gave the list to the CMC and he headed off the carrier, phone in hand. He was going to need some help.

"_This is Abby Sciuto. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."_

"Abby, this is Tim. I really need you to call me back quick. It's about the case." He hung up and waited.

...for about two minutes.

"Hey, Abbs," Tim said with a smile.

"_TIM! What's up?"_

"I found something in the computer at Jordan Michaels' station. It's encrypted. I can't manage it with the equipment that we have here...not as fast as we need it."

"_So...when are you coming?"_

"Abby, that's...a long drive. Do we have that time?"

"_Tim, I've got so much stuff going on...it would really be helpful to have you here working on the computer stuff...just like old times. Can you come?"_

"I'm going to check in with Alex and if she doesn't have any problem with it, I'll get on my way. Okay?"

"_Beg her, Tim. Or better yet, let me beg her."_

I'll keep that in mind," Tim said. "I'll let you know."

He hung up and headed for the office...only to find it empty. He called Alex.

"_Tim! What's up?"_

"I found some encrypted files on Michaels' computer. They're emails, and I'm pretty sure that they're from the...the bad guys."

"_Okay?"_

"I don't think I can decrypt them here. I just don't have all the programs available. Michaels is an expert CT and he's not going to be doing something that could be easily solved...particularly not using the techniques they use on the carrier. Abby wants me to go to DC and help her. You all right with that?"

"_Actually, Tim, that would be perfect."_

"Why?"

"_Because Stan and I have been collecting some more fingerprints, hairs, stuff like that we didn't think of before. It would be great if you could take them with you to DC and see if we're onto something. While you're gone, Stan and I will reinterview the Michaels' neighbors to see if there's any sign that they had people controlling them for a long time before the abduction occurred."_

"Okay." Tim headed for his car. "I'm on my way over. By the time I get to DC and work for a while, it'll be late. So I'll stay overnight and work on it with Abby in the morning, too. That work for you?"

"_Absolutely."_

"Okay."

Tim hung up and called Abby back, listened to her squeal with delight about his temporary return to DC and then stopped at the Michaels' house, grabbed the evidence from Stan and Alex and stowed it safely in the trunk although he kept the flash drive in his pocket. He didn't want to lose track of that. He felt that it was probably really important.

Then, he made his way to DC. It was a long drive and he decided to call Ducky to see what he was doing.

"_This is Dr. Mallard."_

"That sounds really formal, Ducky."

"_Timothy! What's the occasion?"_

"I'm headed to DC to work with Abby on this case. How are things going?"

"_Oh, quite well. I'm not involved in your current case since Dr. Palmer has not called on my services, but I'm keeping myself informed. How are things going while you're working with your former teammates?"_

"Not bad. A little awkward, but it could have been worse. It'll be interesting being back in DC as an agent."

"_Are you looking forward to it?"_

"I'm not sure," Tim said. "I'm...interested in seeing what happens."

"_Have you called them?"_

"I haven't. Do you think I should?"

"_Of course. They'll be excited to hear that, you know."_

"I know."

"_You sound uncertain."_

"I wasn't sure at first, but I like where I am, Ducky."

"_That's perfectly allowable, I hope you realize."_

Tim laughed. "I do...but..."

"_Don't stress yourself about this. Just enjoy making some new connections...or reforging old ones."_

"Right."

"_And come to see me while you're here."_

"Of course. I wouldn't dare miss out."

"_Good. Drive safely."_

"I will."

Tim hung up and drove for another half an hour before screwing up his courage enough to call his old team.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony was staring at his computer.

"We need something else, Ziva," he said. "There has to be _something_."

"Jimmy is trying to find something, but it seems that his mystery man was probably killed by CT Michaels."

"Yeah. We need to get a break here."

His phone rang. He answered while staring at his monitor still.

"Agent DiNozzo."

"_Hi, Tony."_

"McGee!" he said with surprise.

Ziva leapt out of her chair and hurried over. Tony turned on the speaker.

"_That's me,"_ Tim said.

"What has you calling me?" Tony asked. "I'm not complaining, but..."

"_I think that I've got something that may help us track down whoever has CT Michaels. Abby wants my help with it and so I'm headed to DC right now."_

"That is wonderful, McGee," Ziva said. "When will you get here?"

"_Another couple of hours...unless traffic gets worse. There's some construction. I might get off the main road to go around it."_

"What do you have?" Tony asked.

"_Some encrypted emails, and Stan and Alex have been sweeping the Michaels home again. We're thinking that these guys might have been in the house for days before this went down. That's where the threats came from."_

"That could be useful."

"_Wait..."_ Tim's voice became distracted.

"What's up, McGee?" Tony asked.

"_I think that...oh, no..."_

"Tim! What is going on?"

"_He's trying to..."_

Tim shouted wordlessly and then, the phone disconnected.

"Tim! Tim!"

"What just happened?" Ziva asked.

"I have no idea. We need to see if we can track where he is. Try calling his phone again."

Ziva redialed while the two of them dashed down to Abby. Whatever had just happened, it wasn't good.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tim came to unable to focus. The airbag was slowly deflating around his face and it felt like his eyes had swollen up and his brain had swollen as well. His door was wrenched open and he fumbled in his pocket...the flash drive. He had to make sure NCIS got it.

"NCIS," he mumbled. "...they need this...case...please..."

He tried to hand it over. It vanished, and then, a hand came into the car, unfastened Tim's seatbelt and pulled him roughly from the car. Before he could register more than the pain, there was a rag over his face. He took a surprised breath, felt more pain...and then realized that this was a bad idea. The rank fumes started clouding his head even more than he already was.

"Please..." he managed to get out one more time, grabbing at the leg he could barely see through his swollen eyes.

Then, he couldn't fight the darkness any longer and he passed out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby, where is he?"

"I'm trying, Tony! It's hard to track a cell phone that isn't active!" Abby said anxiously. "Stop asking me a question I can't answer yet!"

Abby had been trying to figure out where Tim was for almost an hour. His phone wasn't working and so she was trying to get a fix on it.

Ziva came into the lab.

"I think I have found at least an area where he was."

"Where?" Abby asked.

"He mentioned construction and that he might be getting off the main road. Here, there is extensive road construction with one lane of traffic." She pointed to an area of the map Abby had up on the monitor. "Will that help?"

"It could. If only I had talked to Tim on his phone more. If only I hadn't begged him to come! ...what's happened to him?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "That's what we're going to find out."

Abby went back to her work. Tony and Ziva stood there in silent worry, hoping that Abby would work her magic.

...and she did...fifteen minutes later...when Gibbs came into the lab to see what was going on.

"Talk to me," he said.

"Tim was on his way here to help out with the case and something happened," Abby said. "I just found his phone! He's about two hours away from DC."

"What was he bringing here?"

"A flash drive with a bunch of encrypted emails," Abby said.

"And some stuff from Alex and Stan going over Michaels' house again. They were checking to see if they could figure out how long our nameless DB had been there."

"You have a location, Abbs?"

"Yeah...of his phone."

"Call it in. We're going."

"What about Alex, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Tim is on her team now," Ziva said. "She should know."

"We'll call her on the way," Gibbs said without pausing.

It didn't matter that Tim wasn't on his team, that he _hadn't_ been on his team for years. Gibbs wasn't going to stand by and let someone else look into what had happened. Tim was in this situation indirectly because of things that Gibbs himself had done and not done. No way was he going to let anyone else take precedence.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay," Alex said. "Let's go over what we found."

Stan nodded and pulled out his notes. "No one saw the entire family out of the house at the same time. For the last three weeks, the neighbors never saw the boy outside, but they _did_ see the wife on occasion; so they didn't really think anything of it until I asked them."

"No one noticed anyone new coming around; so these people probably came in secretly, maybe during the night, and never left the house."

"Once we get those samples run," Stan said, "we'll have a better idea, but I'm think more and more that Tim is right. This was something planned out well in advance and there were people in place at the Michaels home holding them hostage."

"I hope that Tim and Abby can pull something out of those emails he found. I don't think we have a lot of time," Alex said.

"Yeah."

Alex's phone started ringing. She answered it quickly while still scanning the information they'd gathered.

"Agent Grandon."

Stan was trying to decide where else they would go when Alex suddenly grabbed his wrist to get his attention.

"When did this happen?" she asked.

Stan looked at her.

"What's going on, Alex?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jordan tried to block out anything that might distract him from what he was trying to do. He hadn't heard anything from Mark for a while. He tried to think that was a good thing, that his son wasn't dead, that they had been fooled by the fact that he seemed to be doing what they wanted...but he was terrified. At some point, he would have to have evidence that he'd made progress, that he was doing what they wanted him to do...which he wasn't. He couldn't do that...but he had the skills to do it. He wouldn't expose the Navy to these men. He couldn't do that.

...but he couldn't let his son pay the price, either. Marisa, his wife, already had, a thought that cause him an almost-physical pain. When he had chosen to fight back, she had been shot...and they had grabbed Mark. They hadn't even let him touch her. They had just pulled him out of the house.

He could only hope that someone found them soon.

...before he was forced to give in.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The ride over to where Tim's phone had been traced seemed to take a long time...even longer when Gibbs got the call that a wrecked car, with a phone in it, had been found in the trees off the I-295 interchange near Richmond. There was a stretch of road construction ahead that had blocked the traffic down to one lane. Tim had mentioned that he might get off to avoid it. It looked as though he had. ...and what made it even worse was that there was no one in the car. Just the phone. Meaning that Tim wasn't there. Tim wasn't there. His phone was.

Someone had taken Tim from the car.

There had been no emergency vehicles dispatched to that location.

But someone had taken Tim from the car.

That was really all they could think about until they got to the scene. ...and it _was_ a crime scene. Police were on the scene when they got there.

"How did this happen?" Ziva asked softly.

"That's what we're going to find out," Gibbs said sternly and got out of the car.

They barely had time to walk over to Tim's car before another car pulled up. Alex and Stan got out and walked over.

"What's happened?" Alex asked.

"We just got here," Gibbs said. "McGee isn't here. We were just about to start investigating."

"Who's going to be leading?" Alex asked.

"If it's part of the Michaels case, then it makes sense for us to lead."

"Tim is on _my_ team, Gibbs," Alex said, squaring off opposite Gibbs in front of the car.

Tony and Ziva exchanged surprise looks...and then, they looked over at Stan who appeared to be a little exasperated.

"It's my lead," Gibbs said. "My MCRT."

"Not your agent."

Tony made a move toward them, but Stan beat him to it. He knew both of them very well and he knew that the posturing was, in part, covering their worry about what had happened...but it was time to move on.

He stepped between them.

"Hey, maybe we could focus on finding Tim first and worry about who gets to be _in charge_ later. Is this really because of the Michaels case or is it something else? And if it's something else, _what_ is it? What do you say, Boss?" Stan asked.

Gibbs and Alex both looked at Stan, hesitated and then nodded, almost in unison, and looked at Tim's car.

"Is anything missing from the car?" Alex asked. "Besides Tim?"

"We haven't had a chance to look," Tony said, relieved that they were all moving on quickly.

"Let's get started," Gibbs said.

Alex headed straight for the trunk.

"What do you expect to find there?" Ziva asked.

"Tim put the evidence Alex and I collected in the Michaels house in the trunk before he left," Stan said. "They'll still need to be processed...especially if he was taken because of our investigation."

"What about the flash drive?" Tony asked. "He had that, too."

"Let's see. Maybe it's still here," Alex said. She popped open the trunk. "Like the evidence bags are."

"They're there?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. All of them. Seals aren't broken. Signatures are there."

Tony, Ziva and Stan started to spread out around the car, looking for the flash drive. Gibbs began photographing the scene. Alex examined all the evidence bags carefully, making sure there was no chance that they'd been tampered with in any way.

For a few minutes, it was mostly quiet in the area immediately around the car. Everyone was doing their part.

Then...

"I have found it," Ziva said, holding up the flash drive. "I assume so, anyway."

"Okay. We need to get all this back to Abby as soon as we can," Gibbs said. "If McGee was taken because of what he'd found in the case, then, we need to interpret it. Now."

"We can't let Michaels and his son get lost in this," Tony said with a little reluctance. "He's still missing...with his son."

"If the events are related, then, solving one will solve the other," Ziva said.

"Then, we should get going," Stan said. "Hopefully, before it's too late."

"We'll have to make an assumption to start off," Alex said. "Do we assume that this is related or not?"

"It's a big coincidence that Tim was run off the road when he was on his way to DC with evidence that could help us track down these guys," Gibbs said.

"But they didn't take the evidence that was here," Stan said. "They left it."

"They may not have seen the flash drive. It could easily have flown out of the car in the crash," Ziva said.

"True," Alex agreed. "We have to start somewhere. Why you go back to DC and start on that angle? Stan and I will check Tim's apartment, see if there's any evidence of a problem there."

"And check on Jethro," Tony added.

Alex smiled and nodded with a sidelong glance at Gibbs. Clearly, the significance of the dog's name wasn't lost on her.

"I think we can handle that. If you can find where they are...so much the better. I just want Tim to be safe," she said.

"That's what we all want," Tony said.

They wanted it, but none of them were kidding themselves. At best, Tim had been in a car accident and was not getting treatment. At worst, he had been in a car accident and was in the hands of people who wanted to hurt him.

No one wanted to think of the possibility of Tim being dead already.

They now had a double incentive to solve the Michaels case.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up in pain and confusion. He was lying down. He could tell that much...but as he tried to look around but his vision was still blurry and there was a dull pain in his chest. He tried to change position, but he couldn't.

He blinked in the gloom of the room he was in.

This was not a hospital, and based on how he felt, he probably _should_ be in a hospital. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous.

It was quiet.

"Hello?" he called out weakly. "Is someone there?"

"Yes."

He hadn't really expected an answer...still less such a simple one.

"Where am I?" he asked the voice.

"Your grave. You just haven't realized it yet."

That was far from comforting.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to think around the pain and dizziness.

A hand appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his arm and there was a sharp pain...and then the heat of blood running down his arm. Whoever it was dropped his arm carelessly onto the flat surface on which Tim was lying.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember my voice. It makes sense for a weakling like you. You can't face the truth and so you block it out."

Tim was trying to engage his brain but it was hard. He tried to move his other hand to cover the laceration on his arm.

There was a clink.

A chain.

"What's going on?"

"You're getting what you deserve..._Agent_ McGee."

Finally, the voice clicked.

"Janssen."

"Good job."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm killing you. Slowly. So you can feel the pain the rest of us went through when you killed my brother."

"I didn't kill your brother."

The hand appeared again, grabbed his arm and pressed down painfully on the fresh wound. The pain intensified.

"You keep telling yourself that, McGee. We both know the truth. You are responsible for my brother's death and you are going to pay for it. I have all the time in the world. No one knows where you are and no one _will_ know. You're going to die. I'm going to bring you to the brink and then let you feel _exactly_ what my brother felt when he died."

Finally, instead of a hand, Janssen's face came into Tim's bleary view. Even without clear sight, Tim could see the cruel anticipation in his face.

"What about...the...flash drive? What did...you do with it?"

"I threw it away."

"But there's a case. Even if...if you...don't want to...what about the innocent people who we're trying...to find?"

"You were willing to sacrifice the innocent. It's pretty hypocritical of you to condemn me for doing the same. I'm sacrificing a lot fewer people than you did. How many people died as a result of your inaction? Your choice?"

Janssen's hand was still squeezing Tim's arm wound painfully. Then, to Tim's surprise, Janssen let go and bandaged his arm, stopping the bleeding.

"We don't want you to die too soon, McGee. Don't worry. When you die, you'll be glad of it."

Tim tried to move his legs and he felt pain...and another chain. He was chained down. He didn't see any way out of it.

_He's going to kill me._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Hey, Keating! Psst, Dan!"

Dan looked away from his computer. "What, Phil?"

"Have you heard?"

Dan shook his head. Phil looked positively bursting with news.

"Someone took McGee."

"What do you mean? From where? He's at Norfolk."

"Yeah. They crashed his car and took him. The guys upstairs think it's because of this case they're working on, you know, the kidnapping."

"Oh."

"Abby's about ready to explode."

"Abby's _always_ about ready to explode," Dan said with a bit of a smile.

"Not like this."

As if to prove Phil's words, the door to Cybercrimes opened and Dan was suddenly being attacked.

"Keating! I need your help!"

Abby wasn't generally so effusive with him as she was with other people. He thought that she hadn't forgiven him for taking Tim's desk way back when.

"With what?"

"I have so much to do and I'm trying to do it all, but I need a computer guy! Please? Please? Please? Come and help me try to figure out what's on this flash drive so that we can solve this case! Please?"

Dan looked at Phil over Abby's head. He just waggled his eyebrows suggestively and then grinned. Dan rolled his eyes.

"Of course, Abby. I have the time. I can come and help. I'd love to."

"Thank you!" Abby said.

She grabbed his hand and started to drag him out of Cybercrimes.

"Right now?" he asked.

"Yes! We can't put this off at all! If they have Tim, he could be hurt, and if they don't, we won't know until we find Jordan Michaels! We have to find out now, not later!"

"Okay! Okay!" Dan said. "I'm coming."

Abby dragged him to her lab and brought up the data on the flash drive.

"These are all encrypted emails that Tim found. He was going to come here and help me figure them out, but..."

"Right. Okay. I won't pretend that I'm as good as Tim is, but I'll do my best."

"You'll do great!" Abby said.

"I'd better," Dan said and smiled a little.

Abby smiled as well...and then, nodded.

"Okay." Dan dove into the data on the flash drive. He _wasn't_ as good as Tim had been in the past. Who knew how good he was now after all the time away? For a while, he had tried to gain some ground on Tim by studying a lot more, practicing. After all the chaos surrounding Tim's precipitous departure from NCIS, Dan had realized how little it mattered who was better than whom. So he had focused on his work. ...but when he'd heard Tim was coming back, he had tried to hear if he was still the computer guy he had been.

Now, he was hoping that he _was_ as good as Tim had been...just so that he could help find him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim regained consciousness, feeling a lot of pain. He was sure he'd broken or bruised some ribs. His whole face hurt and he figured he had two black eyes. Then, there was that cut on his arm from Janssen. He was worried about how far that would go. If it was as far as Janssen had threatened, Tim would be taken to his limits.

"Janssen?"

"What do you want?"

"Why are you doing this? What will you get?"

"Justice."

"This isn't justice. This is revenge. Don't...try to...pretend it's anything else."

"Justice can be served through revenge. Justice would have been you dying already. Justice would have been someone _mentioning_ the fact that you have the blood of all those men and women on your hands."

"I didn't kill them!" Tim said, trying to lever himself up. "I wish they hadn't died. I had to make a choice."

"And you chose to save your own life...and you didn't worry about them."

"You're wrong," Tim said. "I did."

He looked at Janssen who was sitting on a chair, just staring at him. It was as if he was watching TV or something. There was no rushing, no hurry. He had said that he would be taking his time. Apparently, he meant it. He was certain no one would find him.

"Oh, did you?" he asked with a sneer. "That's worse, isn't it? You worried and then didn't do anything?"

"I did my best."

"Which means you're incompetent. You don't deserve to be welcomed back with open arms. You don't deserve anything. You're scum."

"You sure...seem to be...spending a lot of time on scum."

"Some kinds of scum take time," he said, refusing to be baited. "When you clean it out, you want to be sure you get it all."

He stood up, picked up a knife and walked over. Tim tried to keep himself from shrinking away. He knew what Janssen was about to do.

"In your case...you're scum of the lowest order, McGee. I'm going to make sure that there's nothing of you at the end."

He grabbed Tim's arm and drew the knife across it, from near the elbow, down toward the wrist. Tim couldn't help but hiss in pain. That hadn't been in the same place as before.

"How does that feel, McGee?"

"Do you need me to tell you?" Tim asked. "Is that how you're going to...feel better? Because you're not. Nothing you can do will make your guilt go away."

"_My_ guilt?"

"Yes. Yours." Tim took a breath and tried to ignore the burning pain on his arm. "You think that...by killing me you're going to make your own lack go away."

Janssen just smiled and grabbed hold of Tim's arm, pressing down on the bleeding wound as he had before. Tim whimpered and breathed heavily with the surge of pain.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience, McGee. Feeling guilty yourself?"

Tim ignored the tears falling down his cheeks.

"Yes. I've...always felt guilty for not...doing things right. I know...how that feels...and I know...that there's...nothing...you can do to stop it...not like this...because eventually...I'll be dead and...you'll still be left hanging onto it."

Janssen didn't let go. He just pressed harder. Tim groaned and tried to pull away but was too weak to exert any real force.

"I think I'll take that risk, McGee."

He let go and walked away, leaving Tim's arm bleeding, tears making their way down his face, and still that persistent ache in his chest.

Janssen left him like that for a few minutes and then came back and stopped the bleeding.

Tim could feel himself shaking. The blood loss wasn't too bad yet, but it would be. Even just at small intervals like this, there wasn't time to make up for the loss. Tim had no way of knowing just how much he'd lost, but he also wondered if there were other injuries he didn't know about that might kill him before Janssen wanted him dead.

It might be a blessing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Mark Michaels was old enough to want to be tough, but young enough to be terrified about what was going on. For the last two weeks, those men had been in his house. When his dad had come, he hadn't suddenly made things better. Instead, Mark had seen his mom get shot and then he was taken away from her _and_ from his dad. He had heard them talking in the other room and a man had come and set up some really scary stuff right beside him. Once, they had got some bare wires and let off sparks right in his face. So close that he could smell the air burning. He had been scared and cried out. Another time, they had grabbed his arm and squeezed it until he had screamed like they told him to.

Then, they had left him alone. He didn't know what was going to happen next. He didn't know if his dad was alive. All he knew was that things were bad. He was afraid that they would keep getting worse and worse. Mom was already dead. Would Dad be next? ...or would they kill Mark instead?

Suddenly, the door burst open. One of the men grabbed him, yanked him to his feet, unchained his hands and dragged him out of the room and into another one. His dad was sitting at a computer.

"No! No! I promise! I'm trying!" he said.

Mark suddenly felt a gun against his head and he couldn't help it. He _wanted_ to be strong, but he was too scared. He started to cry.

"Dad, don't let him kill me!" he whimpered. "Please!"

"I'm doing what you want! Don't hurt my son!" his dad said.

"You're going too slow. I want to see progress. Now."

"Okay! Okay! I'll try. Don't...don't hurt him!"

"You'll have to hope so..."

The man holding him dragged Mark back out of the room. He threw him roughly against the wall in the other room and chained him up again. Then, he left Mark alone. As he tried to stop crying, Mark suddenly realized that his dad had been afraid. He'd never seen his dad afraid before. Not once. He didn't think his dad _could_ be afraid.

...but he was now.

Mark looked around the little room and hoped that this would all go away. He curled up into a ball on the floor and closed his eyes tightly, trying not to remember seeing his mom get shot.

"Help me, Dad," he whispered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's this?" Stan asked, picking up the tattered teddy bear.

Alex looked over and shook her head.

"I don't know. A teddy bear."

"Tim doesn't really seem the type, does he?"

"Tim is not ever what you'd expect, Stan," Alex said. "I've been constantly surprised by him from day one...both good and bad surprises."

Stan set the bear back in its place. It was set prominently on the carefully-made bed. It looked totally hashed with desperate repairs that couldn't possibly restore it. He wondered why Tim had it.

"I don't see anything here, Alex. If Tim's disappearance isn't related to the Michaels case, it's not something we're going to find in here."

"I think you're right. Man, I hate this. I hate not knowing where to look. He's one of _my_ people, Stan. He's _my_ responsibility."

"And that's why we're investigating...but you know very well that Tim wouldn't want to jeopardize the Michaels case. If we find Michaels and Tim's not there...we can keep looking. The sooner we solve one, the sooner we'll solve both."

"You're so...excessively calm, Stan."

"You wouldn't like to see me lose it, Alex. I promise," Stan said with a smile. That was nothing less than the truth. That was a part of himself that Stan didn't show anyone if he could help it.

"So you've said. Okay. We can get the Norfolk police to run these prints. I don't think we're going to find evidence of anything but Tim and his friends here."

"Yeah. What about his dog?"

Alex looked at Jethro who was sitting rather morosely on his haunches, looking at them...as if to ask where Tim was and why they were there in his place.

"We can't leave him here alone...but I'm not sure what to do with him instead."

"We could take him to a kennel."

Alex shook her head. "No. I don't know which are the reputable ones around here."

"Well, neither of us are really in a good place to take in a German Shepherd, you know," Stan said.

"I know."

"Hey...aren't we heading back to DC tomorrow anyway to catch up on what's happening?"

"Yeah?"

"We can take Jethro with us. He can stay with Gibbs...or with Ducky...or with Tim's friends there. ...oh, I hope someone's told Ducky about this. I know that he and Tim have been close friends after all that happened."

"Why don't you do that, Stan?" Alex suggested. "I'll get whatever doggy things Jethro might need and then we can go. I hate feeling like we're twiddling our thumbs."

Stan nodded. He wasn't looking forward to this call.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky spared a thought or two about what might be keeping Tim...but no more than that. He knew that Tim could get sucked into work and think about little else. He also knew that there was a sense of urgency about solving this case. Still, he hoped that Tim wouldn't wear himself out too much.

His phone rang around seven p.m.

"Hello, this is Dr. Mallard," Ducky said.

"_Ducky...this is Stan."_

"How nice to hear from you, Stan! Are you coming up my way?"

"_Yeah, but I don't have good news."_

"You sound very serious," Ducky said, putting down his teacup.

"_Tim's missing. It looks like someone forced him off the road, crashed his car...and now he's gone."_

"What?"

"_Tim's gone. We think it might have something to do with this case. He was taking evidence from Norfolk to DC."_

"I know. He called me. It just happened?"

"_Earlier today. Alex and I have been checking Tim's place here, but we're going to DC to see what progress has been made...if any. We have Jethro. Can he stay at your place?"_

"Of course," Ducky said absently. As much as he liked the dog, Jethro was furthest from his mind right now. "I will not be sitting idly in my home while this is going on, but he will be free to stay there where he can be outdoors."

"_Thanks, Ducky. I'm sorry that I had to be the one to tell you. Everyone's shook up by it."_

"Are you sure that it's due to the case?"

"_No, but you know Gibbs and his thing about coincidences."_

"I do. Oh, dear. Can't Timothy get one break?"

"_I guess not. Hey, Ducky...does Tim have a teddy bear?"_

"Yes. Is it missing?"

"_No. It's there...if that ragged stuffed animal is it."_

"That's it. It's very important to him."

"_We didn't disturb it. Just wanted to make sure it should be there."_

"It should."

"_Ducky...we all want to find him."_

"I know that...I do. Thank you, Stan. I'll see you at NCIS." Ducky hung up and stared vacantly into space for a few moments.

It wasn't enough that Tim had gone through so much before, that he'd fought against so many obstacles...now, even in his work, he was being targeted? It just didn't seem fair. Not at all...and Ducky wasn't about to sit by and hope for the best. He would go and be there when they found him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Are you sure we should be bringing that thing with us?" Alex asked.

"I think so," Stan said. "I'm not sure, but it seems really important. Ducky said it was."

He looked at the teddy bear.

"I have no idea why."

"I don't, either. This is something Tim never told me about," Alex said. "But I can see why. He'd be embarrassed."

"Yeah, I'm sure...but I think Ducky will want it there even if he didn't say so."

"Stan...I'm worried."

"Me, too. There's too much to do here. We need to find Michaels and his son. We need to find Tim...and if, for some reason, Tim _wasn't_ taken by the same people..."

"Then, where do we go from that point."

"Exactly...and we can't just drop our case to find Tim, even if we all want to at some level."

"Tim would definitely not want us to."

They fell silent as the miles passed them by. They both knew that the last thing Tim would want is to be put ahead of someone else. ...and from a security perspective, they couldn't risk delaying the search for Michaels and his son.

They both tried not to think about what could be happening to Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was retired. He hadn't been asked to consult. He wasn't a part of NCIS any longer. He wasn't related to Tim at all.

...but none of that mattered. All that mattered to him was being involved and knowing what was going on...and perhaps being able to stick his oar in here and there where it might be needed.

And he would be on hand when they found Tim. _When_, not _if_.

He wasn't sure what Gibbs would say, but he would not be rebuffed. Not where Tim was concerned. Ducky had seen too much of what Tim had gone through in order to get back some semblance of normal life to take a backseat and allow others to find him. He _would_ be involved.

Bolstered by his mental pep talk, Ducky got out of his car and walked into NCIS.

"Hey, Ducky. I guess you heard about all the stuff going on," Henry said.

"Yes. I haven't been invited, but I'd like to go up if I may."

"Of course. Here's your pass."

"Thank you, Henry."

Ducky walked through the metal detector and headed for the elevator.

"Hey, Ducky."

"Yes?"

"Agent McGee...he's a strong guy. Anyone who chooses to come back where he knows there will be questions...he'll be okay."

Ducky smiled.

"Thank you, Henry."

Ducky got on the elevator and sent it up to the bullpen. Technically, he should have an escort, but he knew that Gibbs wouldn't care about what should _technically_ be happening. He'd be more worried about what it would take to save the people who had gone missing.

The elevator doors opened and Ducky stepped off. He was unsurprised to see that everyone was still there. There was too much going on and too much stress for anyone to leave. Even Jamie was still there which meant that it was very serious. He knew that she generally worked shorter hours than the others because of her son...but there was none of that going on right now. They were all working.

"Ducky," Gibbs said, looking up from his computer.

Tony, Ziva and Jamie all stopped their work for a moment. Ducky could see that they knew why he was there.

"Hello, Jethro. I don't wish to keep you from your work...but I wish to be involved."

"Of course," Gibbs said.

"Do you have anything you would like me to do? Or would you like me to stay out of the way?"

"Abby's trying to work through the stuff that was on McGee's flash drive. Keating was helping but he got called back to Cybercrimes. She could use some company."

Ducky smiled.

"I can do that. Could you tell me if you've found anything thus far?"

There was a pause.

"There's nothing so far," Tony said.

Ducky turned to him.

"Nothing?"

"If McGee wasn't taken by the same people who kidnapped Michaels and his son..."

"...then, we have nothing," Ziva said. "We are all hoping that he is with them."

Ducky nodded.

"Very well. I will go down to lend moral support to Abigail."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was freaked out as anyone could have expected. She didn't want this to be happening. She didn't want to think about what could be happening to Tim and she absolutely _hated_ the fact that she had to focus on the other case as well. The only things that kept her from resenting it were the fact that Tim would _want_ her to focus on the Michaels case and that solving the Michaels case might also lead to them getting Tim back safely.

The doors to her lab opened.

"I don't have anything yet, Gibbs! I've only barely got started on the stuff Dan got organized!"

"That's all right, Abigail."

Abby turned around, looked at Ducky and ran to hug him tightly. Jimmy was great and there was nothing wrong with his work or anything, but Abby couldn't help thinking, sometimes, that things weren't right unless Ducky was there.

"Ducky! This is so awful and I'm trying to do it and I'm trying to find these guys but I keep thinking about Tim and what he might be going through! I don't want to leave him wherever he is!"

"Then, I think it would be best if you calmed down and focused your energy where it can do the most good," Ducky said.

"You're right. You're right! I'll find something on this flash drive. Tim thought it was important. He thought it might be the way to track these guys down. So I'll use it!"

Abby turned back to her computer and brought up the contents of the flash drive, all the while thinking that Tim could have been killed for what was on it. She wanted him to be safe. She wanted to know what had happened, but she had to wait until they had found Michaels, first. As she worked, she took comfort in Ducky's sure presence. She knew that he was probably as worried about Tim as she was, if not more, but he could remain calm and he could keep her calm as well.

"I don't know if it's the bad guys, but if it isn't, I can't believe how good Michaels is," she said after a while.

"In what respect?"

"He's not very highly-ranked," Abby said, "but this stuff is good work. He knew just what to do to hide the information on the emails. If I can just get through that." She sniffled. "Dan decrypted the text itself, but not the locations. It would be so much easier if Tim were here. ...but he's not."

"No, he isn't."

Abby set a program running to see if it would trace the original location of the emails. Then, she turned around and hugged Ducky once more.

"I know you're worried, too," she said.

"Yes, I am. Very much so," Ducky said.

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"No," Ducky said. "No, Abigail, it doesn't. Timothy has gone through a _lot_, and now, he must suffer still more. In this case, we can't even know what he might be suffering...or if he's alive."

"No! No, he _is_!" Abby said loudly. "I won't listen to any other possibility. Tim is alive!"

"I can only hope so, Abigail."

Abby's computer beeped and she turned around to see what it had to tell her.

"Ducky...look!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Janssen looked at his prisoner and grimaced. Every moment he spent in Tim's company made him sick and burn with rage.

With some satisfaction, he looked around his chosen location. He had been squatting in this building for weeks and had made it clear that he didn't welcome interlopers. He'd had to make that clear with force, but now, none of the other squatters tried to get in. It wasn't huge. It was a big open room with no indoor plumbing. That didn't bother him so much. There were places he could go. He was keeping a low profile, too. He knew that the FBI had been watching him initially and he had taken great pleasure in using the techniques he'd been taught by the FBI to elude them.

Then, he stared at his prisoner again. The frame with box spring wasn't much, but he didn't _want_ it to be much. He wanted it to be enough to keep Tim alive until such time as he decided it was time for him to die. For that, he had something special.

Ecstasy laced with PMA, just like his brother had been given. When Tim was at the end of his rope, he'd force the pills down his throat and watch him die...just like his brother had died. In agony and misery and death would be a welcome release.

He did wonder how severe the internal injuries might be. Clearly, they weren't instantly life-threatening, but Tim's weakness couldn't be entirely explained by blood loss. Not yet.

Janssen smiled. This was so much better than a supposed accidental death would have been had he succeeded at FLETC. He still remembered the shock when he had realized that the man responsible for his brother's death was there, was pretending that all was okay now and he could just resume his life as if nothing had happened. He hadn't given much thought about the possibility that Tim could ever reemerge as a federal agent, but it had touched off purifying rage. It had burned away his own grief and left him focused. To be treated like a criminal for trying to get _rid_ of a criminal had rankled more than a little. Clearly, none of the federal agencies were going to worry about justice.

He walked over, pulled out his knife and took great pleasure in slicing Tim's arm again. He groaned but didn't speak. The blade was dull, meaning it took more pressure to cut.

"Enjoying yourself, McGee?" he asked.

Tim's eyes opened slightly and he stared at Janssen with a disconcerting expression. It wasn't anger or even fear.

It was pity and understanding.

That was the last thing Janssen wanted from this piece of filth. He looked around and saw an abandoned bag of rock salt, left over for who knew how many years. He walked over to it. Would this hurt as much as it was supposed to? He didn't know, but he was willing to try it to get rid of that expression.

While he was away from it, he heard his prisoner start to talk.

"I...can see now...who you are..."

"Who am I?"

"Fury...only they're women..."

Janssen had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he was getting delirious. He walked over and roughly stopped the bleeding. Tim groaned again at the treatment. There were plenty of cuts on Tim's arm right now. Each one gave Janssen a fierce pleasure, knowing that each one had caused pain and suffering to someone who really deserved it.

Then, Tim's eyes opened once more. They were full of pain.

"Do you know...what will happen when I die?"

"What?"

"You'll be left knowing that you killed me...but you didn't accomplish _anything_...by doing so. I'll be...a lot stronger...after I'm dead."

"Dream on, McGee."

"Don't have to...life has shown...what...is right."

Janssen leaned over Tim.

"You're going to die, McGee. As slowly as I can make you die...with as much pain as I can possibly give you without killing you. When you're dead...you'll be nothing but an empty shell. I won't give you another thought."

Tim just smiled.

"The source...of guilt never goes away. Just...ask Jewel."

"Jewel? The singer?"

Tim laughed.

"No...my nightmare...my guilt...dead for...almost three years now..."

"I'll be more than happy to deal with that."

Janssen squeezed Tim's arm right over the most recent wound until he wrung a strangled scream from Tim. Then, he let him go and stalked away. How many more days could he lengthen this out? He couldn't take forever.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby, you said that you had something for us," Tony said. "What is it? This is taking forever!"

"Shut up!" Abby snapped.

"Abigail," Ducky said, "we're all concerned, just tell them."

Abby nodded and tried to calm down.

"These are the emails that Michaels got from the kidnappers. Keating helped me a lot by decrypting the text and helping me see the most important ones. Some of the later ones were from Michaels' house, but not the earlier ones."

"And? Where are they?" Gibbs asked.

"Outside Suffolk, Virginia," Abby said, "but I can't guarantee that's where they are right now! I can only tell you that that's the place the emails came from."

"Give it to me, Abbs," Gibbs said. "We have to get started now, not later."

Abby nodded and gave the address.

The doors to the lab opened.

"What's going on?" Alex asked as she and Stan came in. "We got here and no one was in the bullpen."

"We've got a lead on where Michaels might be," Tony said.

"Where?"

"Suffolk."

Stan groaned. "I knew we should have stayed in Norfolk."

"You don't have to come, Stan," Gibbs said.

"Of course, I do," Stan said. "We leaving right now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Gibbs stalked out of the lab, Alex right beside him, Tony, Ziva and Jamie walking behind. Stan paused.

"Things have moved right along," he said. "Ducky, I brought this along, and Jethro is in the bullpen by Gibbs' desk." He handed the teddy bear to Ducky. "I figured that Tim might appreciate it if it's as important as you said it was."

Ducky took it and stared at it, unable to banish the idea that Tim might bear more similarities to this toy than he had before.

"Thank you, Stan."

Stan put a hand on Ducky's shoulder.

"We're going to find him, Ducky, even if he's _not_ with Michaels. We're going to find him."

Ducky nodded.

Stan ran out of the lab to catch up and Ducky let out a loud exhalation.

"Oh, Abigail..."

Abby hugged Ducky.

"We just have to wait now, Ducky. We're going to find him."

Ducky nodded, hoping she was right.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The drive over was mostly silent. The only conversation exchanged was devoted to deciding exactly how they'd go in when they arrived at their destination. They wanted to find Michaels and his son...but at the back of their minds was one thought.

_What if Tim isn't there?_

None of them spoke the thought, but it was there.

They stopped the cars a couple of blocks away and moved toward the house without needing any speech. They all knew what they were going to do and they were ready. They could only hope that this was where Michaels and his son were being kept...and Tim, too.

Alex and Stan took the back. Tony and Gibbs took the front, and Ziva went to the flat garage roof to see if she could see any sign of their targets, and hopefully protect them from any attempt to get rid of witnesses once the takedown began.

They were all in place. Gibbs saw Ziva creeping toward the side window and he waited until she indicated that she was ready. He saw her pulling open a window. She'd obviously seen something.

"_Gibbs, are you ready?"_

"On three," Gibbs said.

He took a breath, looked at Tony and nodded.

"One...two...three!"

The doors burst open with calls of "NCIS!" as they ran into the front room. Gibbs vaguely heard Alex and Stan moving into the back part of the house.

"Watch out, Boss!" Tony shouted.

Gibbs pulled back and Tony fired into a study at the same time as shots were fired from inside. Tony staggered backward, grabbing a hold of his arm. He winced but shook his head as Gibbs moved toward him.

"Just a graze, Boss. I'm fine."

Gibbs nodded and started up the stairs.

"Stan!" he called.

Stan came running in from the back.

"We got one in the back. Alex has him."

Gibbs gestured and Stan fell in behind him as they headed up the stairs. Gibbs took point and they ran up the stairs. It was quiet. Too quiet. There had to be more than two people involved. There was also no sign of Ziva. There were three doors...and they were all closed. Gibbs looked at Stan and gestured to one of the doors. He took a covering position. Stan nodded and kicked open the door. There was a young boy on the floor, tied to a heat register. He looked at them and whimpered with fear. Stan put his finger to his lips.

"It's okay," he whispered. "We're federal agents. Are you all right?"

He nodded although there were tears in his eyes.

Gibbs didn't want to leave him there, but until they'd cleared the rest of the floor, he didn't dare pause. He nudged Stan.

"We'll be right back," Stan said softly. "Just stay quiet for a couple of minutes."

The boy nodded again and showed some nerve by biting his lower lip and trying not to make any sound.

Gibbs gestured to the next door. Stan nodded, although he was clearly reluctant to leave Mark there.

They walked over and Gibbs opened it.

A bathroom.

One more door.

They started to walk toward it but then, they heard a commotion.

And gunshots.

No speaking.

They ran for the door, fearing the worst. They hadn't seen Ziva yet. Stan kicked the door open...but it didn't open all the way.

There was a body blocking it.

"It is all right, Gibbs," Ziva said. "He is dead."

There was some shuffling and then Ziva opened the door. She looked a bit battered, but no obvious wounds.

"Michaels?"

Her expression was serious but she nodded.

"He is here. His son?"

"Safe."

She sighed.

"Good."

Gibbs walked into the room and saw Michaels, his head hidden in his arms in front of a computer terminal. He gestured to Stan who nodded and ran out of the room, signaling to Alex that all was well upstairs and then heading to where Mark had been held. Gibbs walked by Ziva to Michaels.

"Jordan Michaels?"

"Yes, sir," Michaels said, sitting up, trying to put on a brave face. "I didn't want to help them, sir...but my son...they were..."

Before Gibbs could say anything, there were running feet.

"Daddy!"

"Mark!"

Michaels met his son halfway across the small room and hugged him tightly.

"Are you all right, Mark? Did they hurt you?"

"Just scared me, Dad," Mark said through his tears. "I'm okay, Dad. I'm okay."

Michaels stopped trying to be strong. He was sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Mark. I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay, Dad!" Mark said again. "We're okay."

Michaels looked up at Gibbs who understood how he was feeling. He knelt down.

"Your wife is alive," he said. "She's still in the ICU, but she's alive."

Mark turned around in his dad's arms.

"Mom is alive?" he asked.

"Yes. She is. Agent Burley there and another agent...Agent McGee went to your house to see if they could talk to you, and they found her there."

Michaels' eyes moved from Gibbs to Stan.

"Thank you."

"It was Agent McGee," Stan said. "Did they hurt either of you?"

Michaels shook his head. "No. They needed me to be able to work...and they had my son."

"I'm okay," Mark said again. "I'm okay."

But he wouldn't let go of his father. He was clearly still terrified, even with the goodish news that his mother was still alive. After all that had happened...

"Okay. Let's get you two out of here...and back to Norfolk."

Michaels stood up, his arms still around his son.

"You'll need to talk to me about what happened."

"We will," Gibbs said, "but we're going to get you back to Norfolk so that you can see your wife."

Tears were in Michaels' eyes and he nodded.

"Thank you so much, sir."

Gibbs just smiled and led them out. He saw the despondent look on Ziva's face.

No Tim.

The reality of what that meant would sink in for all of them soon enough. For now, they had to focus on taking care of the two they _had_ rescued.

"How many did you see here?" Gibbs asked as they walked down the stairs.

"I only ever saw two," Michaels said. "The one who was...watching me, and the one who brought my son in once."

"Okay. Did you ever see any other sign of prisoners?"

"No. Just us. If there was anyone else here, he was never with us."

That caused a deeper pang than Gibbs had expected. He had known that it was unlikely after going through the house and finding only these two...but it meant that they had nothing to track down Tim's whereabouts.

"Okay."

"Is Agent McGee with you? If he's one of the people who found my wife..."

"He's not here," Gibbs said.

That was all. He didn't need to add to the guilt that would no doubt be coming hard on the heels of being rescued.

When they reached the ground floor, Alex was checking Tony out. He was sitting on a chair, looking a bit pale but all right. Gibbs raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"A deep graze," Alex said. "Painful as all get out, although he won't admit it, but I think he'll get away with just a few stitches."

"I'm fine, Boss," Tony said. "Boss?"

Gibbs shook his head and he saw Tony's face blanch even more as he realized what that meant.

The same thing Gibbs had realized and Ziva had realized.

Tim was still missing. They had no idea where he was.

They would have to start over.

Gibbs got Mark and Jordan Michaels out of the house. They called for the local police to come and help them secure the scene. While they waited, Mark would not let his father go. They sat in the back of the sedan.

"You'll have to give a full statement later," Gibbs said, "but for now, what was it they wanted?"

"They wanted me to hack into the Pentagon, get transfer dates and routes for ammo, weaponry, electronics...pretty much anything that would fetch a price."

"Did you give them anything that they could have passed on?"

"I don't think so...but some of the time...I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. I just wasn't thinking my best."

"Understood."

When the police arrived, they agreed to help with the house while Alex drove Tony and Jordan and Mark back to Norfolk to the hospital. She had given Gibbs a long look but said nothing. It was going to be up to her to report to Tim's family. The kind of call no one wants to make. After they were gone, Ziva joined Stan and Gibbs.

"Tim was not here. I have searched the house from top to bottom. He is not here."

"No sign that he ever was, either," Stan said heavily.

"Yeah."

"Gibbs, we must call Ducky and tell him. Jimmy will need to come out here anyway. Abby will still be there waiting to hear."

Gibbs nodded and pulled out his phone. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and if a start could be made anew...no matter how much it pained him to admit it, they still needed to find Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was waiting with Abby when his phone rang. He answered.

"Jethro?" he said.

Jethro (the dog) sat up and barked eagerly. Ducky smiled a little and patted him on the head.

"_He wasn't here, Ducky," _Gibbs said with no preamble. _"We found Michaels and his son. They're both alive and headed to Norfolk. ...McGee wasn't here. They didn't have him, unless he was somewhere else. If he was...we'll find out from the survivor."_

Ducky sat down on a chair.

"Oh, no."

Abby whimpered but Ducky hardly noticed her.

"What do we do now, Jethro?"

"_We start again. That's all we _can_ do, Duck."_

"It's been..."

"_I know."_

Ducky stared at the ceiling of the lab and tried not to let his despair show on his face...but his heart twisted in his chest and he felt a deep-rooted fear that Tim was either already dead or on his way to that...no matter _where_ he was.

"_Ducky?"_

"Yes."

"_We're going to find him...no matter what it takes."_

"I know you will do your best, Jethro," Ducky said softly.

That was the truth, but it was all Ducky could say. No encouraging words or sentiments had come to his mind. He could think of nothing to say. For about the first time since Tim had left NCIS, Ducky felt utterly hopeless. He had no idea what to do, where to go...and he couldn't offer any comfort to Abby when he felt so lost. He hung up the phone, set it on the table and rested his head on his hands. What could they do now? What was the next step? He had absolutely no idea. The potential loss of his friend...and surrogate son...threatened to overwhelm him.

...and then, there were some arms around him.

"Oh, Ducky. We'll find him," Abby whispered. "We will."

"I don't know, Abigail. Timothy has been knocked down so many times. What if this is the last?"

"It _won't_ be! Tim is so much better than he was. Whatever is going on, he'll get through it, just like he always does!"

Ducky wanted to agree. He wanted to feel like he had hope, but this moment...there was nothing he could do, nothing he could possibly say. For once, he let Abby comfort _him_ rather than trying to comfort her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell was getting ready to leave. He'd been hard at work all day and thinking about the fact that, sometimes, he wondered why he was bothering to stay on when it really wasn't necessary anymore. He was at an age where he could easily retire with full benefits.

...but he liked to be in on everything.

"So...what did I miss while I was out in the trenches?" he asked no one in particular. There were a few people on duty right now. This was common enough for him to do.

"NCIS has had some problems," Sacks said.

"Problems? With what?"

"Tim McGee. He's been abducted. Someone forced his car off the road and he's...gone. They're hoping that the people they've been investigating have him, but if not...I don't think they have anything."

"How do _you_ know this, Ron?"

Sacks smiled. "I might have been checking on things...knowing that you'd want to know."

Fornell smiled back, but he didn't like this. He wasn't ready to accept that it was so simple as being part of a case. For the last few months, he'd been trying to keep tabs on Janssen and had lost track of him.

"Sacks..."

Sacks stopped smiling.

"What's up, Fornell? It's worrying, but..."

"I don't buy their explanation."

"You know how Gibbs operates."

"Yeah...no coincidences, but I don't buy it. I don't like this. I'm going over there. If I'm wrong, great, but if not...I think I know what's more likely."

"Janssen?"

"Exactly."

"I'll come with you."

Fornell just nodded and headed out.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Ducky felt listless. He had no ideas. He had no hope. He was just waiting for something to break that malaise.

He got it.

Abby was back at the evidence they'd gathered from Tim's car, trying to see if there was anything they'd overlooked because of their previous assumption.

Ducky was just holding the ragged teddy bear and praying silently.

The doors to the lab opened and Ducky was surprised to see Fornell and Sacks striding in.

"Agent Fornell, Agent Sacks...what are you doing here at this time of night?"

"No luck finding McGee, yet?"

Ducky sighed. "No. He wasn't with the men who kidnapped Michaels and his son. We're back at square one, I'm afraid."

"Janssen!" Fornell said impatiently. "Did none of you think of Janssen?"

"Janssen? ...we've seen neither hide nor hair of him. I'm sure Timothy would have said something if he'd noticed him before."

"Probably, he would...but only if he saw him. Janssen performed very well in the area of covert surveillance and tracking. I've been trying to keep an eye on him ever since we fired him, but I lost his trail about a month ago. Why did you assume that it was the kidnappers?"

"Because Timothy was on his way here with evidence that led us to them," Ducky said.

"We had to start _somewhere_," Abby said, sounding affronted. "Why are _you _so sure it's Janssen?"

"Because Janssen isn't the kind of person who will _ever_ give up once he's decided on a course of action. He's decided that McGee is guilty, that he needs to be punished. That's what he's going to do."

"If you're right," Ducky said, "and I can see that you could be, where is he?"

"I wish I could tell you for sure, Ducky," Fornell said. "He was in New York when we lost his trail. I wasn't following him officially. I couldn't put as many resources on it, but if I'm right and he's after McGee...and he's got him, he would have been watching him as closely as possible. That means in or near Norfolk. Why camp out somewhere far away from your target when you want to be able to track him down quickly?"

Ducky stood up and looked at Fornell with a new, painful hope forming in his chest. Here was a new possibility, one that had merit and deserved attention.

"You're right, Agent Fornell. You are absolutely right. I wish we had thought of Janssen ourselves. Could we have your help? I can't ask you officially seeing as I'm retired, but the more people searching for Timothy, the better. Please?"

Fornell nodded.

"I can't speak for Ron, here."

"I'll help out," Sacks said quickly.

"Then, why don't we get on our way. It's a long drive to Norfolk."

"Abigail, please call Jethro and tell him and then...if there is anything at all you can find."

Abby nodded, clearly feeling the same renewal of determination that Ducky was.

"If there's anything to find, I'll find it and I'll let you know."

She hugged Ducky.

"You go and I'll get back to work. Jethro will help me!"

"Thank you, my dear," Ducky said softly. "I'm coming with you, Agent Fornell."

"I assumed," Fornell said with a smile. "Let's go."

Ducky grabbed the teddy bear and followed Fornell and Sacks out of the lab.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs hung up, feeling like the biggest idiot that had ever lived. Why hadn't he thought of Janssen himself? Why had he been so focused on Michaels and refused to consider any other option?

_Because that's what Tim would do, too. He wouldn't have wanted us to put the emphasis on him._

Even so, it didn't excuse the fact that Janssen should have been who he thought of first.

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked. "We headed back to figure out something else?"

"No. We're staying here?"

"Why?" Ziva demanded. "What more is there for us, here?"

Gibbs looked at them both. They had put Janssen out of their heads just as thoroughly as Gibbs had.

"Janssen," he said.

It took all of two seconds for them to see what he was saying.

"Janssen! Why are we so stupid?" Tony burst out. "That psycho could have killed McGee and we just..."

"Did Abby think of this?" Ziva asked.

"No. Fornell did."

"Fornell?"

"And Sacks."

"What? Man, he's going to be insufferable," Tony groaned. "How did they–?"

"Fornell's been trying to track Janssen's movements. Lost him a month ago. He's pretty sure he'll be here...or near here. They're on their way."

"They?" Ziva asked.

"Fornell, Sacks...and Ducky."

"Ducky's coming?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, he is," Ziva said. "He would not stand to the side and wait to find out."

"Hey...has anyone called McGee's family?" Tony asked. "Do they even know that he's missing?"

"No."

Tony looked over at Alex who had just joined them.

"I hadn't thought of it...and now I don't want to until we have more to tell them."

"Fornell will be here in a couple of hours," Gibbs said.

She nodded.

"You think it's this Janssen guy that Tim had problems with at FLETC?"

"Yeah. It makes a lot of sense."

"So did the idea that it was the people who took Michaels and his son," Alex pointed out. "How much are you going to bank on this being right?"

Gibbs glanced at Alex, but he noticed there was no acidity to her remark. She really was asking. This was probably the first time she'd had a team member to lose. Her experience was with the rotating field agents and a few desk agents who weren't involved in active investigations. She was dealing with the possibility of having to make a report that Tim had been killed.

"I'm banking his life," Gibbs said.

Alex nodded.

"We might as well stay here at the office and see how things are going to go. Make some plans while we wait for Agent Fornell to get here."

"How are the Michaelses doing?" Tony asked.

"They'll be having trouble, but Stan is taking his statement and he already knows Stan and trusts him."

"Good. Any news on his wife?" Gibbs asked.

Alex shook her head. "Still critical. They don't know what's going to happen with her yet." She paused and then looked at Gibbs. "Could I speak to you for a moment in my office?"

Gibbs nodded and gestured.

"Get started," he said to Tony and Ziva. Jamie had stayed at the hospital with Stan.

He followed Alex into her office and waited until she shut the door.

"You have to learn to deal with this," he said abruptly. He knew what she was going to ask him.

"But how do you, Gibbs? Tim is the first real member of my team and I've lost him...and if it's Janssen who has him...what are the odds he's still alive? Tim didn't like talking about Janssen much and I let him avoid it, but what little he said tells me that Janssen is crazy." She started to pace. "I've been angling to get an MCRT out here for a couple of years...and now..."

"You're wondering if you can hack it."

"Stupid to think about it while Tim's still missing, but..."

"You can," Gibbs said. "If you choose to. Everyone learns how to deal with this stuff the hard way. You can't be _taught_ it. Here it is. You have to decide if it's what you want."

"What if he's dead, Gibbs? What if Tim has already been killed?"

Gibbs tried not to think about that possibility. He didn't want the reminder that it was possible, and he didn't want to think about the fact he could still partially blame himself for all this.

"If he is, then we find who did it and make sure they pay for it," he said, finally.

Alex was silent for a few seconds and he could almost _see_ when she was ready to get back to work.

"Well...in order to do that, we have to know where they are...and if Fornell thinks that he's around here, can start looking even without him. We just need some place to begin."

Gibbs nodded, opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. Alex smiled and walked out, instantly taking charge of the situation.

"Okay. If we're going to assume that Janssen has Tim and that he's somewhere local to this area, then we need to do a couple of things. First, we need a BOLO on Janssen. He may not show up, but it need to get that going. Second, we need to look into the possible areas he could be hiding. There are a few areas around Norfolk that haven't been rebuilt yet, some rather crummy neighborhoods and areas with vacant buildings and vacant lots."

"If Janssen has him, then it would need to be an area he could keep secure," Ziva said. "It could not be a random room somewhere."

"I'll get the BOLO out," Tony said.

Alex nodded and brought up a map of Norfolk.

"Okay. Here are our options if we're going to focus on some of the...more rundown areas."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell looked back at Ducky as he sat holding something in his hands. He looked at it more closely.

"Is that...the teddy bear Janssen ripped up?" he asked.

Ducky's gaze moved from the window to Fornell.

"Yes, it is."

"Wow. Who fixed it?"

"Jethro...and the others. Together."

"Can I see it?"

Ducky seemed reluctant to let the toy go, but he handed it up to the front seat. Fornell looked at it. It looked rather...demented. Who had decided those big eyes was the right choice?

"Well?" Ducky asked.

"It's one of the saddest-looking teddy bears I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen the teddy bear Emily's been sleeping with since she was a year old."

Ducky stiffened, looking a bit affronted. He seemed ready to defend his friends, but Fornell smiled.

"I'll bet that McGee loves the sentiment behind it and that he puts it in a place of prominence. Am I right?"

"Yes. You are. He doesn't talk about it much, but Timothy loves it. It's a treasure to him."

"I thought so. He's that kind of person, I think."

Ducky looked out the window again.

"I hope he will be still when we find him."

"Do you think he's dead?" Fornell asked.

"No. I think that if you're correct about Janssen, and I feel that you are, that he will take his time. That man would like nothing more than to cause as much pain as possible. I just don't know if Timothy can take another assault. I don't know if he can handle the implications of why Janssen is doing this to him. I'm afraid that this will break him...permanently. Agent Fornell, you haven't seen Timothy at his lowest points. I have, and I never want to see that again, not when he is finally getting himself back."

Fornell could see how worried Ducky was. He hadn't realized just how invested Ducky had become in Tim's life. Any injury to Tim would adversely affect Ducky as well.

"You know what, Ducky? When I saw him at FLETC, when I talked to him there, I didn't see someone who would be easily broken. He was determined _not_ to let Janssen take anything away from him. Don't give up on McGee, Ducky. I don't think there's any reason to yet."

Ducky nodded.

There was silence for a few moments and then Ducky looked at Fornell again.

"Why is it that you're allowing Agent Sacks to drive?"

"Because I'm a much better and faster driver than he is," Sacks said with a smile.

"And because I like to chat with my passengers. It's hard to do that when I have to keep my eyes on the road," Fornell said. "...and if I get pulled over again, I think my superiors might just give up on me all together."

Ducky smiled a little and held out his hand for the bear. Fornell gave it back.

"I didn't think that bear stood a chance of becoming whole again," he said. "I was wrong. McGee can make it, Ducky."

"I truly hope so."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had almost no energy. He couldn't even flinch when Janssen came at him again. It was getting harder to breathe, although he didn't know why that would be when it was his arm Janssen was cutting.

Nothing was really making sense to him anymore. He looked at Janssen for a moment but it took too much energy to focus. He let his eyes roll back in his head and he just lay there, feeling the blood running down his arm, more blood gone. A few minutes later when Janssen stopped the bleeding, he barely felt it.

"How...does it feel?" he whispered. "Feel...better...with me...like this?"

"Much better, McGee," Janssen replied. "I wonder if you're not already basically dead right now. Maybe it's time to give you your parting gift."

"Gift..."

Tim forced his eyes open.

Janssen held up a pill.

"Ecstasy with PMA. Your favorite."

"Had it...already."

"Oh, really? And how is it that you survived if that's the case?"

"Friends...who saved me."

Tim let his eyes close again and he thought of Ducky. Ducky who had always been there, even when Tim had wanted him to go. He owed it to Ducky to try to survive all this, but he hoped, if the worst happened, that Ducky wouldn't be here. He didn't deserve that sight.

"Friends?"

"Kept me...from giving up...when I was...going to let myself die."

"Lucky you."

"Better...than your...brother," Tim said.

There was a burning pain on his arm...and then the feeling of hot blood running down toward his shoulder.

"Maybe a bit more misery before the end, McGee."

The blood flow stopped and his arm was dropped back to his chest.

Tim had no energy to move it again. He didn't see much hope remaining.

...but he would keep trying to survive.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

It was late, and Fornell looked into the back seat to see Ducky drowsing. He was glad. Ducky was having trouble dealing with this, and, to be honest, Fornell was worried that Tim would be dead already. Janssen was certifiable, but even he would want to be done eventually. How long would it take for Janssen to tire of tormenting his prey?

"You think he's still alive?" Sacks asked softly, clearly on the same track.

"Don't know."

"If Janssen has him...it could go either way."

"If it's possible for McGee to be alive, he will be. I just don't know if it's possible. Either way, we need to find him and stop Janssen. If he kills McGee, he'll only move on to someone else. He's off the deep end," Fornell said quietly. "He's an FBI problem and we need to stop him."

"Understood. You going to tell _him_ that?"

"No. We don't need to talk about the negative possibilities. We all know what they are, even if some of us don't want to acknowledge them."

"All right. Your call. We'll be there in about half an hour."

Fornell nodded.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Anything else that you can tell us?" Jamie asked.

Jordan shook his head.

"If you found the emails, you know what they were saying to me. I probably should have told someone, but I didn't...and I guess I'll have to pay for that. If...If my wife comes through this, I'll pay any price asked."

Stan couldn't be anything but sympathetic to Jordan's situation. He had been in a no-win situation and he couldn't have dealt with it well no matter what. At this point, he was mostly numb. He had held himself together for his son's sake, but Mark was asleep. He had stirred a few times, but Jordan had kept his arm around Mark and comforted him.

"I understand, Jordan. Really, I do. I hope your wife recovers."

"If she does...it will be due to you...and the other agent you mentioned. Where is he? I would really like to thank him."

"I hope you can," Stan said softly.

"What's wrong?"

"He's missing," Jamie said. "We thought that the same people who took you, took him, but we were wrong. We're looking for him now."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. I wish I could help."

"It's all right," Stan said. "We're just glad that we solved this case and found you both alive. That's all Tim would have wanted...and now, we can find him. Don't worry."

"I guess I have enough to worry about," Jordan said and smiled weakly. "Unless you have to stay here, you should go and get to work finding your friend. I don't want him to have to wait. The time I spent in that room...it was never-ending. I started to forget what was outside it just because I needed to be able to keep myself focused. I'd never wish that feeling on anyone."

Stan smiled and nodded.

"There's an NPD officer outside the room, just to make sure that it's safe, that we didn't miss anyone. Agent Davidson and I will head back now."

"Thank you," Jordan said again. "Thank you so much."

Stan nodded again and walked out with Jamie. He sighed as soon as they were out in the hall.

"I hope they've found something else," Stan said. "I can't think of what else to do...and if Tim is still alive, that can't last forever."

Jamie smiled a little. "If there is _any_ way that anyone could find him, they will. I've been working with this team for almost two years now. They all feel like they owe Tim and they'll do whatever it takes to repay the debt. No matter what it takes."

Stan glanced sideways at her as they headed for his car. They got in and started back to the office.

"How do you like working with them?"

"It's been an experience. Mostly good, a little frustrating at times because I'm a little more of a stickler for the rules than they are, but I could only _wish_ to command the kind of loyalty that these guys have to Agent McGee, but I know they still wish he'd come back."

"What if he wanted to?"

"I'd step aside. Don't tell the others...well, Gibbs know already...but the reason I'm on this team is because I'm supposed to be willing to be moved if Agent McGee decides to come back to DC, and I am."

"Are you really going to do that?"

"I have a lot of respect for this team, and although I don't know him well, I respect Agent McGee as well. He's had a lot of trouble that he didn't deserve to have and he's come back from that. I don't see how anyone wouldn't respect him for that."

"Well, some people didn't, you know," Stan said. "There was a guy at..." He stopped and stared at her.

"What?"

"That guy at FLETC who almost killed him. Tim told me about him. Did you hear about it?"

"Oh...yeah, I guess I did. Why?"

"It wasn't the people who abducted Michaels who have Tim. It has to be someone else...and this guy...whatever his name was, he was apparently nuts. He tried to killed Tim because he blamed Tim for his brother's death. That's where we need to start again. I'd bet anything that it's this guy who tried to kill Tim."

"Okay," Jamie said. "Let's get back to the office and hope that they aren't heading back, yet."

"Right."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so where do we go first?" Tony asked. "We should start looking if we're going to find him. We won't find him by sitting around here."

"But we have to narrow the areas down," Alex said. "There are too many options, too many places where a person could hide. If we don't know for sure whether or not he's in Norfolk or somewhere around, we're better off organizing where we're going to go."

"And how long will we wait here..._organizing_ before we actually _do_ something?"

"Tony!" Gibbs said. "That's enough. She's right. We need to start somewhere, but there has to be somewhere to go."

Tony started pacing around the office until the door opened. He looked toward it, thinking that maybe Fornell would be getting there and magically have an idea. ...but it was Stan and Jamie.

"Gibbs, we need to start looking for that guy who attacked Tim at FLETC."

Ziva's smile was more than a little sad.

"We have been doing so," she said. "Fornell thought of that and contacted us. We did not."

Tony plopped down onto a chair and ran his hands through his hair.

"Figures that the people who don't know him as well would be the ones to figure it out," he said.

"Someone already thought of it, though?" Stan asked. "Man...why didn't you tell _us_?"

"We were busy."

"Well, how far have you got?"

"Not very," Alex said. "We're eliminating neighborhoods. We've got a BOLO out for both of them.

Stan sat down and looked at the map. Then, he got a thoughtful expression on his face, one that Tony was interested in seeing.

"Alex..." he said carefully. "...I've got...an idea..."

Alex looked at Stan.

"Oh, I don't think so, Stan."

"You could _try_. It's been a couple of years, hasn't it?"

"He has a long memory," Alex said.

"What is it?" Ziva asked.

"A..._former_ informant. He worked with Cassie Yates when she was stationed out here, and he worked with me on occasion until...well...he went a little far."

"How far?"

"He was arrested in the bust two years ago. He'd been dealing. Small-time, but he'd been dealing and so...he served some time, not much, but he took that as a betrayal and he has refused to talk to me since."

"So...why him?" Tony asked.

Stan smiled. "He's one of those people who just knows things. He moves in those circles. If anyone knows where Tim and...what's his name..."

"Janssen."

"Right...Janssen. If anyone knows where they are right this minute, it'll be her friendly informant."

"And you think he won't help?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm pretty sure he won't," Alex said. "He was quite clear about how he felt."

The door to the office opened one more time, this time revealing Fornell, Sacks and Ducky.

The office was getting crowded.

"Are you making any progress?" Fornell asked.

"Not really," Tony said.

"Where are you at?"

"Trying to narrow down the neighborhoods to see where he'd go."

"Okay. Well, I've got some info that might help figure out his methods."

"Shoot," Alex said.

"Agent Grandon," Gibbs said.

"Gibbs...it's a waste of time."

"Just try."

"Okay."

Alex excused herself and closed the door to her private office. Tony watched her sigh and pulled out her phone. She met his gaze for a moment and then turned away.

"So what can you tell us, Tobias?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I had a guy trailing Janssen for the first few weeks. It was easy, too easy. Once he was on the move, we lost him. ...but my agent got the chance to make a study of him. Knowing what we knew, a lot of the things he did took on new meanings."

Gibbs glanced over at Alex who had just disconnected and was dialing another number. She didn't look thrilled, but she was still trying; so that meant it was out of the question yet. Gibbs gestured at Fornell who sat down on one of the few chairs available. Ducky had already seated himself, but he was remaining strangely silent. Tony was surprised at how _old_ Ducky looked right now. He had suffered a heavy blow with Tim's abduction, and now, he was genuinely afraid. Tony almost felt like it was as important to get rid of that expression on Ducky's face as it was to find Tim.

"Okay. So the thing about Janssen is that if we're right about Tim being with him, he feels that what he's doing is nothing less than justice. When we first took him on, the interviewer...not me...noted that he was very firm on his sense of what was right and wrong. He feels that whatever he's doing to Agent McGee is only what he deserves."

Tony felt himself start to bristle.

"Before you bite my head off, please notice that I'm not saying that he's right. I'm saying that this is what Janssen _thinks_."

Tonly cleared his throat and said nothing.

"This kind of self-justification will extend to everything in his life. He's going to take a position that whatever he plans is something that everyone else should go along with. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt or even kill someone else if they got in his way. We'll need to go in force if we find him and be careful that he isn't right beside McGee when we go in because he'll kill him just to make sure that justice is served. This is how far gone he is."

"Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky looked at Gibbs.

"It's a kind of malignant narcissism. He has decided that he absolutely correct in all his summations and he will not accept any contradiction and that means he can do whatever he wants, secure in the knowledge that he is right. ...but he may also be subconsciously desiring some kind of verification of his belief and he wouldn't want to kill Timothy until he received that...unless threatened with the possibility of that being taken away from him."

"Okay. Then, we need to find him...soon."

"Yes."

Alex came out of her office.

"He agreed to meet with me, but I really don't know that it will be anything other than a chance for him to taunt me. Are you sure you want me to waste time on this, Gibbs?" she asked.

"It won't be a waste if he knows something. I'm coming with you."

"Gibbs, I don't want him killed or tortured."

"I don't want to kill or torture him. I'll give him a chance to talk, first."

Alex smiled reluctantly.

"Okay. Let's go. Just you, though. He's antsy."

"An antsy informant?" Tony asked. "What a shock."

"Right."

They walked out together and Tony looked at Ducky one more time. He was holding the teddy bear they had fixed up as if his life...or Tim's life...depended on it. He looked at Ziva who nodded and walked over to Ducky and hugged him tightly.

"We will find him, Ducky. I promise."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The computer beeped a negative and Abby sighed.

"I don't see anything, Jimmy," she said.

"Maybe there's nothing to see here. Maybe we'll just have to wait," he said.

She hugged him tightly.

"I hate being left behind. Don't you?"

Jimmy thought about it and then shook his head.

"No. Actually, this time, I don't mind being left here at all."

"Why not?"

"Because...if they needed me along...that would mean someone had died, maybe Tim. If I have to stay here and everyone survives, I am totally okay with that. I'll stay here until I find out what happened."

"Jimmy...when did you get so smart?"

"I listened to Dr. Mallard for years. Some of it had to rub off on me eventually," Jimmy said with a smile.

Abby looked at him and smiled and then hugged him again.

"Well, I approve."

"Good. If you have another idea, do it...but if not...let's just wait. They'll tell us."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's his name?" Gibbs asked.

"Joey."

"Okay. I'll let you do the talking unless we're not getting anywhere."

"And then, you'll step in?"

"Good cop, bad cop. Works more often than people think."

"He's familiar with that."

"Yeah, but he's probably never had anyone actually _be_ the bad cop."

Alex looked at Gibbs.

"How far are going to go?"

"As far as it takes...and I'll let him know it. All he has to do is say what he knows or doesn't know. I won't ask for more than he has."

"All right. Let's get this over with."

They walked into the alley.

"Joey, we're here."

"You didn't tell me you were bringing company."

"I know."

"What do you want?" he asked, stepping out of the shadows.

The informant had a distinctly mousy appearance. That figured.

"We're looking for a federal agent who was abducted a few days ago. We're wondering if you've seen or heard anything."

Joey's smile became a sneer.

"Oh, really? You want my _help_?"

"I'm not getting into this, Joey," Alex said. "Either you help or you don't."

"And what if I _do_ know something?"

Alex smiled and looked at Gibbs, giving him permission to play his part. Clearly, she wasn't interested in going about this the long way. Gibbs was fine with that. He stepped forward, and noticed that he dwarfed Joey.

"Then, you had better tell us."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

Gibbs leaned in close to him.

"Because I'll kill you if you don't."

"Hey, you're a cop, too. I know the routine."

"I've killed people for revenge before and I'm still a cop," Gibbs said. "You're a little weasel and I wouldn't lose a bit of sleep over you."

He pulled out the photos of Tim and Janssen and thrust them at Joey's face. He hadn't yet touched Joey, but it didn't matter. He was standing as close to Joey as was possible without doing so.

"All we want to know is if you've seen these guys. Or if you know anything. If you say you don't and I find out you've lied, I'll make sure you regret it. If you don't know anything, tell us now and stop wasting our time."

"Okay, okay!" Joey said. He was pretty easily cowed. "I might know something."

"What?" Gibbs asked. "You better not be lying."

"I haven't seen those guys."

"Then, what is it, Joey? Spit it out!" Alex said, angrily. "I don't care what you think of me. I care about getting my coworker out. You ought to understand _that_ feeling at least."

"There's a place that...I guess some guy moved into part of the building and forced everyone else out. It's one of those buildings the city's going to tear down next year. There's been a lot of squatters in there, but anyone who invaded the area he staked out...one guy got beat up pretty bad. No one will be sad if he's gone from there."

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about it? Your people don't generally take that kind of thing very well."

"Because this guy...they said he seems really nuts. Out there. He has a gun and no one wants to be the first one to go in and get shot. The buildings are going to be gone anyway. Let him have his space for a few months. Who cares."

"Where is it?" Gibbs asked, still not backing away.

"What? You want the address?"

"Yes."

"Okay! Okay!"

Alex walked over and handed Joey a paper and pen with a smile.

"Go ahead. Right it down."

Joey looked at Gibbs more than once as he scribbled the location down.

"There! That's all I know! Will you back off?"

Gibbs smiled and did so.

"Thank you...but remember what I said."

"Hey, I'm no liar. If I say I know something, I do."

"Good."

Alex took back the paper and pen and started to walk away.

"Hey..." Joey said.

Alex turned back.

"What?"

"Why me?"

"Because you're the best, Joey," she said.

Joey rolled his eyes but seemed a little bit flattered.

"Whatever. Just keep that guy away from me," he grumbled and walked away.

"What a nice impression you left," Alex said.

"Well?"

She looked at what he'd written.

"This could easily be what he says. It's part of the renovation the city's been doing for years. They started on the waterfront and they've been doing more and more of it, trying to reclaim the rundown parts of the city and it's been working pretty well."

"All right...then, we're not going to waste any more time. We'll stop and get everyone and move on it."

"Sounds good to me," Alex said. "I don't want Tim to be in Janssen's hands any longer than he already has been."

Gibbs nodded. They hurried to the car and back to the office. They'd find Tim yet. They'd get him back.

...and if the worst happened, Gibbs swore than Janssen would pay.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"Ducky you need to stay here," Gibbs said.

"No, Jethro."

"Yes. You're not armed. You'll be in the way while we're trying to figure out if they're in there or not."

"Very well, but when you go in, I will be there. Do _not_ leave me behind."

"Ducky..."

"No, Jethro. I won't be kept back."

Gibbs sighed and nodded.

"All right, but you stay here until we know where we're going."

"Very well."

Gibbs almost sighed with relief that Ducky had capitulated. He gestured to the others and they started toward the building. They had to be careful and quiet. They had no idea where Janssen might be within the building and they all had Fornell's description as well as Ducky's added thoughts in their minds. Janssen would kill Tim if he thought that he could lose his chance for revenge.

"Not a sound," Gibbs said quietly. "Once we're inside, no talking. If you find him, tap on the microphone. Tony and Ziva, twice. Fornell and Sacks, three times. Alex and Stan, four. This is someone who knows how to track people. We're not going to let him find us. We're going to find him. Davidson, with me."

Ziva and Tony nodded. Stan and Alex ran around to the back. Fornell and Sacks took the first floor.

They hurried through the building as quietly as they could. Gibbs and Jamie went to the third floor. Every open space could be hiding Tim or Janssen. Every closed door could be a trap. They quietly crept through.

After ten minutes of silence, they heard a tap.

Two taps.

Tony and Ziva on the second floor. He looked at Jamie who nodded. They hurried back to the stairs and down to the second floor, meeting up with Fornell and Sacks coming up from the first floor. They couldn't see Tony and Ziva yet.

No one said a word as they moved carefully down the hall, searching for Tony and Ziva.

Then, Jamie tapped Gibbs on the shoulder and gestured. They could see them. Stan and Alex were just coming down the hall from the other side of the building. Gibbs reached out and touched Tony on the shoulder. He turned quickly.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question. Tony nodded and gestured to a door that was very slightly ajar and had a dim light coming through.

_McGee?_ Gibbs mouthed.

Tony looked uncertain but without speaking, they couldn't really say more.

Gibbs moved and looked through the crack. There was Janssen, bending over a pallet with...something...or some_one_ on it. It could be Tim. It could be a pile of stuff. Hard to tell from this angle. But Janssen was here. That was good enough for him. He looked back. Tony mouthed _Ducky_ with a questioning glance.

Gibbs considered. He didn't want Ducky to be in on this, but he couldn't deny that Tim would likely be in dire need of medical attention. He looked at the others. They were all ready to go in when Gibbs gave the word. Gibbs looked at Tony and nodded reluctantly.

Tony headed off to grab Ducky and bring him in.

Gibbs looked at Fornell and Alex and gestured for them to go around to the other door into the larger room. They nodded. Spreading the group around would make their entrance more efficient and would give them more angles.

With Ziva and Jamie in position, Gibbs resumed watching through crack in the door. As long as Janssen was near that pallet, he didn't want to risk moving in. It didn't look as though there was anything else in the room, but Gibbs also knew that he couldn't see everything there.

There was a tap indicating that the others were in place.

They had to wait until Janssen moved away from that pallet. Ideally, in the middle of the room. ...and before Tony arrived with Ducky.

...but Janssen didn't move. He was talking which indicated there was a _person_ there. He might be psycho, but there was no indication that he was genuinely crazy.

It took too long.

Tony got back and Ducky was right on his heels. Gibbs looked at him and gestured for him to stay back. Ducky didn't even acknowledge the gesture. He said nothing but his gaze was all for the room. Gibbs gave up. He would just have to hope that Ducky kept his head.

It took five of the longest minutes known to man for Janssen to walk away from that pallet. When he did, it was with a purpose...and a knife in his hand. He had made a decision of some kind. Time to move.

The countdown was three very slow taps on the microphone.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then, Gibbs burst through the door.

"Janssen! Stay where you are! Drop the knife!" he shouted.

"FBI!" Fornell shouted only a second later. "Freeze!"

They were all arranged with Janssen in the middle of a circle. He looked at them with nothing less than loathing.

"Drop the knife, Janssen," Gibbs said.

He noticed, vaguely, that Ducky had followed them in and was beside the pallet.

"Ducky..." Tony muttered.

Ducky made no reply. He was not going to be removed from the room. He knelt on the floor.

"Drop it," Fornell said.

"Or what?" Janssen sneered. "Do you think I have any interest in listening to your orders, Fornell? Traitor that you are. ...or you, _Agent_ Gibbs? Do you think that I have any respect for NCIS after what that piece of filth over there did to my brother?"

"He didn't do anything to your brother. Your brother killed himself by being stupid," Sacks said.

"Wrong! My brother was killed by the drugs _he_ helped move! _He_ did it while he was supposedly undercover! He didn't stop them! He did nothing but save his own skin. He deserves to die!"

"Drop your weapon and put your hands over your head," Gibbs said. He wanted to kill Janssen, but that would be letting him off too easy.

"And what if I say no?" Janssen taunted. "Too chicken to engage with people who can actually fight back?"

Gibbs saw Tony and Ziva both acting a little antsy. They wanted to fight back.

"No one move," Gibbs said. "Drop the knife, Janssen."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you."

"Go ahead and try," Janssen said.

Gibbs looked past Janssen and met Ziva's gaze. It was a warning gaze. No killing. Ziva nodded.

...and aimed.

...and fired.

The knife flew out of Janssen's hand and clattered to the floor. He threw himself at it, but that was the cue for everyone else to move. Alex was at the knife before Janssen could get to it. Her foot was on it and her gun was one him.

"Don't even bother," she said.

Tony was on top of Janssen a moment after and wrestled him into submission.

"You're under arrest, Janssen."

"Under arrest?" he shouted. "Under _arrest_? I'm doing what no one else had the _guts_ to do! I'm getting justice! He deserves to die and he deserves to feel every moment that his life slips away!"

"Get him out of here," Gibbs said. "But make sure he lives." He looked right at Janssen. "I want him to go down and to feel every minute of it."

Janssen sneered at him, but Fornell and Sacks dragged him out of the room before they could continue the conversation.

Then, he turned his attention to Ducky and the pallet. He walked over and looked.

"Get the ambulance here," he said. "Now."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky came in behind the others and made a beeline for the pallet. He didn't pay attention to anything else. He knew the others were more than competent in dealing with one man.

It was Tim on the pallet. One arm and one leg were chained to it. His eyes were closed. His face was pale. His breathing was shallow and irregular.

"Timothy," Ducky whispered. "Timothy."

Tim's eyelids fluttered open and he actually mustered a weak smile.

"I must be dead..." he whispered almost inaudibly. "I'm...seeing an...an angel."

He laughed. Ducky couldn't respond in kind.

"Timothy, what happened? What did he do?"

Tim let his free arm flop over, and Ducky felt a surge of almost-irrational anger. There were no fewer than ten deep cuts on Tim's arm. One of them was clearly new. He could tell they hadn't been done at the same time because of the varying levels of infection.

"Why?"

"Something...happened...in the accident. Not really recovered," Tim said. He couldn't raise his voice above a whisper. "Then...let me bleed for awhile...and stop it...until I'm...almost dead. Then...the...ecstasy."

"He gave you ecstasy?" Ducky asked, fear clenching at his heart. He'd seen the results of that once already.

Tim shook his head and his eyes closed.

"No...not yet."

"Then, he never will."

Tim's eyes opened again. He seemed a little confused.

"Why...not?"

"Because we've got him and we've got you. You're going to be fine," Ducky said, praying that he wasn't lying. Tim's heartbeat was rapid and irregular. His respiration was shallow and fast. His skin was pale. He was showing all the signs of advanced hypovolemia.

"Ducky...I want you to know..."

"No, Timothy. Don't start that now."

Tim smiled and shook his head.

"No..." he said and drifted off for a moment, eyes closing as he weakened.

Ducky shook him gently. "What, Timothy? What is it?"

"I...want you to...know that...I don't believe... him..."

"Who?"

"Janssen...he's...wrong..." Tim smiled a little. "...not...my fault..."

Ducky felt his throat tighten and he took hold of Tim's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"That's wonderful, Timothy. Thank you for telling me."

Gibbs joined him.

"What does he need?"

"To be unchained from this pallet and taken to a hospital," Ducky said. "There's nothing we can do here."

"The ambulance is on the way," Tony said.

Tim suddenly stiffened and his face scrunched up in pain. His respiration sped up even more. Ducky looked at Gibbs who nodded and examined the chains. There was no sign of a lock they could pick. ...but the pallet was wood. Wood slats nailed to a frame. Gibbs grabbed hold of one of the slats and yanked on it. The wood was old enough that it came free after a couple of pulls. Tim's arm was freed, although the chain was still attached. At the same time, Tony followed suit with the slat holding Tim's leg.

"Hold on, Timothy," Ducky said. "Don't give up now."

"How...many times..."

"For what?"

"Do I have to...almost die...before it happens?" Tim asked, breathing through the pain.

"Hopefully, never again...until your time comes."

Tim opened his eyes to narrow slits and he looked at Ducky.

"When...will that be?"

"A long time from now, lad."

"Are...you sure?"

Ducky looked at the others who were gathered around. Tim didn't even seem to notice them. Right now, his world had room for one person only. Before, it had been Janssen. Now, it was Ducky.

"Yes, Timothy, I'm very sure."

Tim actually teared up.

"I...don't want to...die, Ducky."

"You're not going to die, Tim," Tony said before Ducky could.

Tim looked around, surprised at the voice.

"Tony?"

"Yeah."

"Why...are you...here?"

"To save you, of course."

Tim's face scrunched up in confusion.

"But...I...have to...stay under cover...you'll...ruin everything..."

"No, Timothy, that was two years ago," Ducky said.

Tim didn't seem to be following. The confusion didn't ebb.

"Can't...let anyone know...how bad it is, Ducky. If I do..."

"What?"

"Can't stop...being afraid all the time..."

"Yes, you can," Ducky said. "You don't need to be afraid, Timothy, not anymore."

Tim was fading fast, but the ambulance arrived.

"He seems to be suffering from severe hypovolemic shock, probably due to repeated bleeding as well as possible internal bleeding," Ducky said. "If he's been fed at all in the days he's been there, I would be surprised."

The paramedic nodded.

"We'll get him taken care of as soon as we can, sir."

They transferred Tim to a stretcher, began administering oxygen and moved him out. They knew that the best chance Tim had of surviving was to get to a hospital as soon as possible. Ducky watched them go and then sat down on Tim's pallet and dropped his head into his hands.

"Ducky, it will be all right," Ziva said, sitting beside him. "Tim is a strong man and he will come through this. We found him alive."

Ducky couldn't bring himself to answer. It was hit after hit and, while Tim had said he didn't believe Janssen, he had thought he was still undercover. What if all those gains he had made were lost?

"Ducky...why did he start thinking it was two years ago?" Tony asked hesitantly.

"It's one of the symptoms of advanced hypovolemia...blood loss," Ducky said. "Mental confusion, tachycardia, tachypnea, cool, pale skin. All those symptoms Timothy had...they are coincident with severe blood loss. It could be internal, external...and it's bad enough that Timothy could easily die."

Ducky couldn't help it. The possibility of Tim's death was so very real at this moment that he began to cry. Ziva hugged him.

"No, Ducky. You cannot give up hope now. You have never lost hope, even when the rest of us assumed that there was nothing to be done. You have been there for Tim through all of this and you have seen him come back from such dark places, places none of the rest of us were willing to go."

"I can't hope right now, Ziva," Ducky said. "Timothy's question was a good one."

"What question?"

"How many times will this happen before he dies?"

"Your answer was right," Gibbs said. "None...until his time comes."

Ducky looked up at Gibbs.

"What if _this_ is his time, Jethro?"

Gibbs held out a hand to help Ducky stand. Ducky took it.

"It won't be," he said in that tone that brooked no argument. "Not this time."

Ducky took a breath and looked around the vile room.

"I know you have an investigation to pursue, but could one of you take me to the hospital, please? I need to be there."

"I'll do it," Stan said. "I'm not as good at this land-based stuff, you know. I'll drop Ducky off, pick up some stuff from the office and come back."

There was no argument to that suggestion although it was clear that none of them wanted to stay. Stan gestured and Ducky walked out of the room, out of the building and into the open air.

"Ducky, it's going to be okay."

"You can't know that, Stan. None of us can, not even Gibbs."

"No, I do."

"Why are you so sure?" Ducky asked, willing to be convinced.

"Because Tim survived this long. He's fighting. If he'd given up himself, he'd be dead, but he's not. So he'll live."

Ducky couldn't rid himself of the sinking feeling in his gut. He wouldn't ever presume to call it a premonition, but it was so heavy that he couldn't dislodge it. There was no room for hope inside him at the moment. Then, he looked around and saw Janssen, cuffed and in Fornell's custody. Sacks was just pulling up in the FBI car.

A fire began to blaze in Ducky's head and he was furious at this wretched example of the worst humanity had to offer. He had taken Tim away from the life he was starting to rebuild and he had nearly killed him.

The thoughts burned like fire in his brain and propelled him across the intervening space until he was within reach of Janssen.

"I hope you burn in the deepest pit of Hell!" Ducky said.

Fornell stepped forward to stop Ducky from attacking his prisoner. Whatever his feelings, he had a responsibility. Ducky paid him no mind. His attention was all on Janssen whose eyes were full of hatred.

"You should rot for all eternity, knowing how thoroughly you failed in your mission to destroy a good man. You have not destroyed him. Even if Timothy dies, you haven't won. He knows that you are _wrong_! He knows that your life means nothing! I would kill you where you stand had I the means and I'd feel no guilt. There is one reason I'm not. Do you know what that is? Do you?"

"What?" Janssen sneered. "What reason?"

"Because Timothy would not want me to. He had the chance to get his revenge on you for the attack you perpetrated at FLETC. He could have put you in jail, but he did not want to. He is, even in his worst moments, a far better man than you. I hope you live the rest of your life knowing and suffering for what you did. I am not as good a man as Timothy and I hope that you suffer and I hope there is no forgiveness for you."

Janssen actually seemed taken aback by the fury in Ducky's tone. Fornell was keeping Ducky back, but Ducky hardly noticed.

"I will not even touch you, but I hope that you remember what I've said and I hope you remember what you did to Timothy, an _innocent_ man. Your brother killed himself. No, it wasn't his intention, and I have no idea how much responsibility _you_ bear for it, but you attacked a man who would have cut off his own hand before he gave drugs to your brother. You are the one who is guilty of attempted murder, torture and I hope you never forget that because you would have killed a man out of misplaced revenge. I hope you feel the guilt and that you choke on it."

Ducky shook off Fornell's restraining hands and walked back to Stan.

"I'm ready to leave, Stan. I don't want to be near that man for another second."

"Sure, Ducky. This way."

They walked down the street to the car and got in. Stan didn't say anything as he started to drive to the hospital. Ducky started to shake, a reaction to the adrenaline rush that had led him to that verbal confrontation.

"I hate that man," Ducky said.

"I caught that," Stan said.

"Timothy has struggled so much, Stan. It's not fair that this should happen to him, and that he could die as a result of something he has paid for over and _over_ again."

"Ducky, he's not dead!" Stan said firmly. "You need to let this go. I know you're usually the one with all the great advice, but let me turn some of it back on you. You _need_ to stop because, if Tim survives the immediate danger, he'll still be at risk until he stabilizes. Look at Petty Officer Michaels' wife. It's been days and she's still in critical care. It's going to take a lot of time and Michaels has to have hope for his wife, and he has it because he thought she was dead and even if it takes a long time, he is so happy just for that little bit of hope that he won't give up. He has his family back."

"Stan...I feel like I've lost it. All I can see is the loss. I can't...tolerate another blow...and it's not even me. I have to stand at the side and watch as Timothy gets beaten down over and over again and it's...if you'll forgive a cliche, it's not fair. It...hurts to see this happening."

"I know. I don't want to see Tim suffering at all, either, and I haven't known him like you have, but, Ducky, this is going to ruin _you_ if you can't have some hope of things getting better. Take a risk and keep hoping."

Ducky patted Stan on the shoulder and nodded.

"I need some good news, Stan."

"You'll get it, Ducky. I know you will."

Ducky took a breath and could only wait and see.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Hours later, a doctor came out. Ducky straightened, instantly.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes. You have news about Timothy?"

"Yes. You were right. There was internal bleeding. It would have been minor if he had been treated early, but the days he spent..."

"How bad?" Ducky asked.

"He had lost nearly forty percent of his blood volume. Most of it was from internal bleeding, but a significant portion was from the repeated...lacerations. He has a couple of broken ribs which would have caused him more pain but they didn't puncture his lungs. He was given no food or water so far as we could tell and that only made things worse. We've replaced the blood that was lost, but his body has taken a real beating and it'll take time to be sure that he'll recover."

"How much of a chance does he have?" Ducky asked, praying for good news.

"I'd say a pretty good one. The fact that he survived as long as he did bodes well, but it will take time."

"Of course. Could I go in and see him?"

"Absolutely. Have you heard from his family?"

"Not yet, but I know they've been called. They'll be on their way as soon as they can."

"Good. Come on back. He's not likely to wake up, but he could possibly hear you. So talk to him."

Ducky followed the doctor back to the quiet ICU in which Tim lay. He was still and pale as Ducky expected. He knew well what Tim's status was, how chancy his situation could be...and that fact that death still could lay in his near future if the trauma and depravation proved too much for Tim's body to take. He looked around. No one was near.

"Timothy..."

That's all he could say for a moment. He held Tim's hand tightly as time passed.

"For once, lad, you're the stronger of the two of us. In the midst of your pain, you took the time to comfort me, you proved just how far you've come. Now...for my sake, you need to go further. I know you have your own family as you always have. You have parents who love you and worry about you. ...but if I had children of my own I could hardly care for about them as much as I have come to care about you."

There were soft beeps and clicks as machines monitored Tim's situation.

"Timothy, I need you to recover. I really do. You wanted the same thing from me before after I was shot. I know that I can't put that kind of responsibility on your shoulders, but you have so much of life ahead of you and I don't know if I could tolerate seeing you lose this battle when things were finally going right. Please, Timothy. Please heal from this latest attack."

Tim didn't awaken. That was to be expected. Ducky knew that regardless of Tim's rate of healing, it would take time before he would wake up. He would wait. He just wanted to see Tim's eyes open and see reason in them.

"I'll wait. I'll be here as much as I can, Timothy. I've never left you alone, not even when you wanted me to. I'm here now, and I don't want to give up on you. I'm just afraid that I'm getting too old to deal with it. You are such a good man, Timothy. You don't deserve the suffering you've gone through. I hope you never believe that you do."

Ducky leaned over and rested his head on the railing of Tim's bed. In his heart, he began to pray that Tim would recover.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Alex exhaled loudly and pushed away from her desk. She walked out into the open space and looked at the people there.

"So...where are we at?" she asked.

"Janssen is in custody," Fornell said. "If we have your permission, he'll be taken into FBI custody officially. He's a former employee and while I know that NCIS can claim priority given that it was an agent who was attacked, I promise that we'll be thorough."

Alex looked at Fornell.

"Why?"

"Because he's _our_ mistake, and whether it's you or me leading the investigation, he's going down. If the FBI is in charge, you have more time to spend elsewhere. You still have another case to wrap up, and a man in the hospital. You know I won't let him off easy."

Alex looked at Gibbs.

"Your case. Your call," he said.

Alex took her time. She didn't want to rush into any decision. Tim was _her_ agent, no matter what Gibbs might think. Anything that adversely affected him was her responsibility, but at the same time, what Fornell had suggested was not a bad idea. Tim was safe now and if it was possible for him to recover, he would. They all wanted to be able to be there for him, and the more there was to do, the harder it would be.

"All right, Fornell. I think that's a good idea. Make sure that you don't miss anything." But she smiled as she said it.

"Yes, ma'am," Fornell said and saluted. "If you don't have anything else for me, I'll get our guest on the way back to DC. If Ron and I can avoid killing him...maybe we could just save the cost of a trial."

"He doesn't deserve that," Gibbs said quietly. "He deserves to suffer."

"That's what Ducky said," Fornell said. "He does, and while I'd prefer to do it illegally, I'll accept a legal alternative. Let me know how McGee is doing, all right?"

"Will do."

"Then, we'll be off."

Fornell and Sacks left the office, leaving only the NCIS personnel behind. Tony and Ziva were both glancing at the clock and then at their phones, hoping for some news from Ducky. He had called once to say that Tim was in the ICU, but there was so much to do with the cases that they hadn't been able to go over to the hospital. Alex had called the McGees and they had been understandably shocked. They were on their way.

The case was over. Janssen was in custody.

...but with Tim at death's door, it was a hollow victory.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Ducky was sitting beside Tim, giving Tim's family a much-needed break from watching over him. Matt and Judith had come, but the timing was just wrong and they had been called away to talk with someone about adopting a little girl; so they'd had to leave, but they'd promised to come back as soon as they could. Tim had not yet awakened, but he had stabilized. Dr. Grier, the doctor in charge of Tim's case, said that he would come out of the coma in his own good time, and that this time spent unconscious could be a good thing because his body was getting a chance to recover without any real strain.

Still, as the hours went by and nothing changed, Ducky felt the leaden weight in his stomach get heavier and heavier. He couldn't even think of a story to tell.

He had been sitting beside Tim, almost drowsing when he suddenly heard a voice.

"...didn't...bloodletting exist as a...medical practice once?"

Ducky woke up and looked at Tim.

His eyes were open and he was actually smiling a little.

"Timothy!"

"Isn't that...true, Ducky?" Tim asked, his voice very soft and quavery.

"What was the question, lad?"

"Bloodletting...medical practice?"

"Yes, unfortunately. For hundreds, even thousands of years."

"I don't...think it works too well," Tim said and let out a breathy chuckle.

"No...No, it doesn't," Ducky said and then he began to cry.

He leaned over and hugged Tim as tightly as he dared.

"Timothy, I thought you would die."

"I thought...I might, too...Ducky," Tim said. "But I...didn't..."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Tired...shaky...not myself...but it's okay."

Ducky gently lay Tim back down on the bed. Tim looked more than a little out of it, but seeing him conscious and with enough mental acuity to hold a conversation...it was more than Ducky had been able to hope for.

"How...bad was it...really?"

"It's been two days and no one knew if you'd survive."

"But...you got...Janssen?"

"Yes."

Tim nodded slowly and then he reached out clumsily.

"What about...Jordan Michaels? His son? Did..."

"Don't worry. They found him. Abigail was able to get a location from all that data you gathered. He and his son are shaken but all right. Actually, they're probably in this hospital."

"So...they're okay?"

"Yes. They are and extremely grateful to you, from what I understand."

Tim nodded and then his eyes closed.

"You've exerted yourself enough, Timothy," Ducky said quickly. "Don't worry. All will be well."

"Ducky..."

"What is it, lad?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not ever leaving me alone...I couldn't...give up because...I couldn't let you down."

Ducky felt the tears again.

"Never, Timothy. You haven't done that."

Tim kept his eyes closed, but he continued to speak. Slowly, haltingly, but he was speaking.

"All the while...Janssen had me...knowing...that he would kill me...I thought about...everything that you had...tried to get me to see. This...isn't my fault. Just like...Jewel..."

"What about her?"

"She made...her own choices."

"Yes, she did, Timothy," Ducky said, hardly believing what he was hearing. Could Tim really be believing all these things that so many had tried to tell him for so long?

"Ducky..."

"What, Timothy? You don't have to say it all now."

Tim smiled a little.

"Am I going to...make it?"

"Yes, Timothy," Ducky said. "Yes, you are because you've made it this far."

"Can this...be the last time I have to pay for what I did?"

"If there is any way for me to make it so, it will be."

"I hope you're right. I'm so tired."

"Rest, Timothy. Rest and recover. That's all you need to do now."

Tim nodded and didn't speak again. After a few minutes, it was clear that he had fallen asleep. Ducky belatedly realized that he should have called Tim's doctor in. He was reacting like any emotional family member would.

And finally, that lead weight was dissipating. There was a chance for Tim to recover. He could see it. He could see the healing, and he could see how far Tim's psychological healing had come.

If only this change would be permanent and Tim could allow himself to see more than his mistakes and truly embrace the life he had.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Although it had been hard, the MCRT had finally been required to go back to DC and get work done. Vance had been lenient, but there were reports to be filed, investigations to be wrapped up. Now, Gibbs was home after the stress-filled days and nights that had followed Tim's abduction and subsequent hospitalization.

He went down to his basement, but he didn't work on a boat or anything else.

Instead, he walked to one corner and uncovered a desk. It wasn't just any desk. It had taken him months to build it, and the man it belonged to had never been willing (or able) to accept it. He looked at it, enjoying the beauty of something he had created but regretting the waste when Tim refused to accept it. Maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands. He had been uncertain about how to deal with Tim and with good reason. Given the fact that he had made so many mistakes, mistakes which had led to the near-breakup of his team, Tim's mental breakdown, his near death, it was good for him to take some time to analyze his decisions and why he was making them.

In this case, was the idea taking shape in his head a good one? Would it be to help Tim or was it to assuage the still-present guilt? Gibbs ran his hand over the wood, appreciating the smoothness of the finish, and then over the cold metal accents. It was probably the best work he'd ever done, bar none. Tim deserved it. He had said it was beautiful, but at the time, it didn't fit in his life.

...but he'd built himself a new life now, one that had room...literally.

If he didn't want it, he could always say so.

Gibbs nodded to himself and pulled out his phone.

"Tony, I need your help."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Over the next week, Tim's condition improved, although he was still sleeping most of the time. Alex and Stan were there as much as they could be, but the Michaels case was keeping them busy because there were a lot of tangential issues involved in what had happened. They had to track down the others involved, deal with all the details of what had happened in the takedown, coordinate with DC.

The MCRT came to Norfolk as much as they could, but that wasn't much because they had plenty to do as well. Jimmy and Abby went on a weekend. Tony, Ziva and Gibbs came on a Sunday, but no one spoke to Tim much...because he was mostly asleep.

Ducky was there. When he wasn't at the hospital, he was still in Norfolk. He had no job holding him in DC, and he could refuse the requests for consultations...which he did. Until he could see that Tim was overcoming the weakness and lethargy, he didn't feel that he could leave.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was alert enough now to feel frustrated at how long it was taking him to recover...but he also could tell that he was still needing time. This had been really bad, he had seen it in Ducky if nothing else. Ducky had been as hopeless as he'd ever seen him.

"Knock! Knock!"

A child's voice echoed.

"Knock! Knock! Tim!"

Tim smiled at looked up.

"Hi, Matt. Hi, Chris!"

His friend came in and sat down beside Tim's bed. Chris demanded to be placed on the bed on Tim's lap. He hugged Tim tightly and then settled himself beside him, looking extremely content.

"Just me, today. Judith is in a frenzy."

"Why?"

"Because we got some very good news."

"Really?" Tim asked with a smile. "Have you told Chris?"

"Yeah. It's possible that it could fall through, but tomorrow is the day; so we're hoping that things won't change in the next twenty-four hours. We're flying down to Florida in the morning. He's excited."

"Are you, Chris?" Tim asked. "You ready to have a sister?"

Chris started bouncing on the bed and then got up and started jumping.

"Sister! Sister! I get a sister!"

Tim laughed and held out his arms. Chris threw himself at Tim and proved just how unready for that Tim was. Tim nearly dropped him.

"Whoa. Careful there, buddy. I'm not up to that. He's getting too big to jump on me," Tim said to Matt.

"He's too big to jump on me, the little chunk, but that doesn't stop him from doing it. We've learned not to lay on the floor unless we want to test the strength of our spine."

Tim chuckled.

"So...how are _you_ doing, Tim?"

"Better than I was." He held up his arm and showed the row of cuts, some of which were now stitched closed. "This was bad enough. The car accident was worse as far as my body is concerned."

"And your mind?"

Tim mustered up a half smile and hugged Chris gently.

"That was hard. It was really hard."

"And?"

"And I'm glad it's over and I hope that it never happens again."

"Tim? Okay?" Chris asked, his brow furrowing as he noticed the change in the feel of the room.

"Yeah, Chris. I'm fine. I'm not feeling the best yet, but I'm getting there."

"Good. Okay?"

Tim smiled. "Yes. I'm okay."

Chris hugged him and then reached out for Matt. Matt picked him up and settled him on his lap.

"How much longer are you in here?"

"Probably another week. Dr. Grier said that my heart was weakened by the extra work it had to do to keep me alive and they want to be sure I'm really ready before they let me go. I'm not really in a position to complain. Just getting up to go to the bathroom wears me out." Then, he grinned at Chris. "And having a chunky almost-three-year-old jumping on me doesn't help."

Chris laughed.

"He needs a sibling to jump on," Matt said.

"I hope you don't let him jump on a newborn."

"No. Definitely not."

"That's good." Tim felt the lethargy return with a vengeance. "I think I'm ready for a nap."

"Okay. We'll come by when we can, and when you get released, come and stay with us for a few days. We'll be adjusting to having another child in the house, but we'd love to have you."

"Thanks. I'll definitely give it some thought. It might be nice to have someone waiting on me."

"You mean besides Ducky?"

"Yeah. I'm kind of worried about him, Matt. He's been so...worried about me that I'm almost afraid for him."

"Well, if you relax, then so will he. Both of you just need to relax."

"Easier said than done."

"Of course. It always is."

Tim sighed.

"Yeah."

"Tim? Hug?" Chris asked, holding out his arms.

Tim felt some tightness in his throat and he nodded.

"Yes, Chris. I'd love a hug."

Matt handed him over once more and Tim hugged Chris tightly, taking comfort from the simple thoughts of a toddler. He could see that Tim was feeling a little down. So he gave a hug.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to remind you of more complications, but what about your old team?"

Tim smiled over Chris' shoulder.

"Can't you let me worry about one thing at a time?"

"Sure, if I thought you would, but you won't. You'll start thinking about everything. Here's your chance to get through it at least partially."

Chris started jumping on the bed and Tim kept hold of his hands, making sure that his energy didn't carry him off the edge. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at the IV needle in the back of Tim's hand. He touched it.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's called an IV. It gives me medicine and other stuff that I need while I'm getting better."

Chris looked at Tim and then looked at the IV bag hanging beside the bed.

"What's that?"

"That's the medicine I'm getting in the IV," Tim said patiently.

Chris plopped himself down on Tim's lap and began examining the space around him.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about them," Tim said, continuing the conversation. "I need to do something, though. I know that much. I've still been holding them at arm's length, and I shouldn't."

"What's that?" Chris asked, pointing.

"That's the machine that makes sure my heart is beating right," Tim said.

"Why have you been?" Matt asked.

"Because it's easier," Tim said honestly. "I'm not mad at them anymore. I don't blame them anymore. ...but it's more than that."

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"That's the button that will call people in here if I need help," Tim said.

"What more is it?" Matt asked.

"I don't...know, for sure," Tim said.

"Have you forgiven them? You're not mad and you don't blame them, but have you really forgiven them?"

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"That lets me put my bed up or down when I want to."

"See?"

Tim smiled and picked up the bed control. He showed Chris how to move the bed up and down. Chris was delighted, but Tim only let him play with it for a minute or two.

"Okay, that's enough. I don't want to break it," he said.

"Okay."

Chris started looking around again.

"I don't...I don't know if I really have...because I'm still kind of afraid of trusting them. If I can't trust them, then I can't really be forgiving them, can I."

"What's that?" Chris asked, holding up a teddy bear.

Tim looked at the bear. Ducky had brought it to him and he had gratefully kept it with him.

"This is a present."

"Broken?" Chris asked.

"It was." Tim looked at Matt and felt the tears again. "It was broken but it got fixed."

"Sad, Tim?" Chris asked, looking morose.

"No, Chris. I'm not sad."

"Bear?"

"Yeah. It's a teddy bear."

"They fixed it for you," Matt said softly.

"Yeah, they did. It looks terrible, but...but they fixed it after Janssen ruined it."

"Tim, it sounds like they're trying to make amends."

"They don't need to," Tim said, looking at the bear. "What they did...it's two years in the past. It's not recent. It's something that happened a long time ago and...and they're still trying to make up for it."

"Maybe they think it's worth the effort."

"Why?" Tim asked. "Why am I worth the effort?"

"Because, Tim, while you can be a hard friend to have, you're a friend worth having."

"I don't..."

"...want to admit that's what they're thinking?"

"Maybe not."

"Why not?"

"Because I...I just don't know how things can ever go back to how they were."

"Why is that a requirement, Tim? Things don't have to go back to how they were. They probably _can't_, even if you want them to. You've changed. They've changed. Things are different and you just need to accept that...and the change doesn't have to be bad. You just need to figure out what you want because if you don't know, you're not going to be happy with what happens."

"I know."

Chris leaned over and kissed Tim on the cheek.

"Love you, Tim!"

"Chris doesn't like to see people sad, Tim," Matt said.

"I love you, too, Chris. Why is it so easy for him?"

"Because he's a little kid who hasn't seen the kinds of things you have. He hasn't had those experiences."

"Lucky him."

"Yeah."

Suddenly, Tim felt a strange fluttering in his chest. He put his hand over his heart.

"Matt..."

Matt got to his feet and pushed the call button.

"Does it hurt?"

"No...it's just...wrong..."

Matt picked up Chris and walked out into the hall. He saw the nurse coming toward him and gestured frantically.

"What is it?"

"He said something is wrong."

Tim heard Matt talking, but he was feeling really strange.

Then, there was a nurse leaning over him.

"Tim, tell me what's wrong."

"Heart..."

"Okay. Are you feeling any pain?"

"No...feels wrong and...getting...breathless."

"Okay." Her voice was very calm. "I need you to breathe slowly. You're experiencing a tachycardic episode, probably as a result of your weakened heart. It's going to take time for it to recover normal function. Dr. Grier will be here soon and we'll get this taken care of. In the meantime try to remain calm."

Tim nodded. Dr. Grier came and first, to Tim's surprise, he put an ice pack on Tim's face. Then, Tim was told to cough. After a few minutes, his heart seemed to be slowing down and the feeling of not being able to breathe was ebbing.

"Feeling better, Tim?"

Tim nodded.

"Good."

"What happened?"

"Your body was damaged by the extended period of hypovolemia. It's going to take time for you to recover. That's one of the complications of what happened. You might have other episodes like this and we'll keep on top of it until you start to recover from the damage."

"Will I?"

"I think so. The gradual blood loss was actually a boon because it delayed the point at which your body couldn't compensate for the lowered volume which decreased the amount of damage. Still, there was plenty and if the blood loss had got any worse, it would have been too late. Thankfully, it didn't."

Tim nodded again. This had been a surprise to him, a reaction he hadn't expected, and he was quite sure he didn't want to repeat it. Ever again. In fact, it had scared him.

Dr. Grier noticed and put a calming hand on Tim's shoulder.

"It's all right to be frightened by it, Tim, but don't worry. You're on the mend and that's all to the good. Your friend is outside waiting. You want to see him?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Tim stared at the ceiling. It hadn't been life-threatening, but it had been scary. Matt came in with Chris looking worried.

"Tim? You all right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Dr. Grier said it's part of getting better."

Tim wiped away a tear that had escaped.

"Tim? Okay?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, Chris. I'm okay."

"Hug?"

"Yes, please."

Matt obligingly put Chris on the bed once again and Chris hugged Tim tightly. Tim was grateful for the contact, for the reassurance that he got from something so simple as a hug.

Matt stayed with him for the next couple of hours, but then, he had to go, promising to come by as soon as they could.

After he left, while he waited for his next visitors, Tim picked up the teddy bear. He looked at it for a few moments and then hugged it tightly and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep and get better.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Tim was released the next week. Dr. Grier was being cautious, however, and he had Tim still plan on coming in frequently for checkups. So, instead of going to DC and staying with his friends, Tim was to stay home and Ducky would stay with him. He'd had a few more tachycardic episodes, but they were less frightening after he understood what was happening, and none of them became anything more than disconcerting.

There was actually a bit of awkwardness on Tim's part as he and Ducky drove to his apartment. Seeing how broken Ducky had been because of his abduction had been a shock to him and he wasn't sure he knew how to deal with it.

"You're very quiet, Timothy," Ducky said softly.

"Nothing to say," Tim said with a smile.

"I see."

Tim looked out the window as the sights of Norfolk passed by.

"Ducky?"

"Yes?"

Tim lost his courage.

"Nevermind."

Silence fell again.

"What is it, Timothy?"

Tim had been told to keep himself as calm as possible to avoid any irregular heartbeat, and he could feel himself tensing up. It would be better just to say it.

"I'm sorry."

Ducky looked at him in surprise.

"Whatever for, Timothy?"

"It's...just that...I..." Tim didn't know how to say what he was thinking about.

Ducky looked around and found a green space. He got off the main road and pulled into a space by the bay. By unspoken consent, they both got out of the car and walked over to a bench. Slowly. Tim sat down, feeling tired already.

"Now, Timothy, why in the world would you feel the need to apologize to me? What do you think you've done?"

"I don't know, but... Ducky, I've seen how bad this has all been for you, and it scares me that you've been so...hurt by what happened to me. After everything you've done for me, the last thing I want is to...hurt you."

Ducky looked at him sternly.

"No, Timothy. After all that you've been through, I don't want you to start blaming yourself for my shortcomings. I...I admit that I lost all hope of finding you. You asked me how many times this kind of thing could happen to you before it was too much. I couldn't help but wonder the same thing. Seeing you now, getting better but still weakened by your recent experience, it's a relief, but I'm still infuriated by what happened and, quite honestly, frightened by it."

Tim looked down and then out at the water.

"It scares me, too."

"I know. I wish I could have kept my fears away from you, but I failed in that regard because, even when we found you, I thought you would die and that was incredibly unfair. Timothy, I would never be so selfish as to think that my own worries were worse than your suffering, but I was afraid, and that fear became all-encompassing. When we realized that you were not with Michaels and his son...I could not even imagine where to start again. It was an awful moment, one I hope will not be repeated."

"I'm sorry," Tim said again.

"No! No, lad, I don't want you to apologize. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you gave me some hope when you insisted that you knew it wasn't your fault."

"Did I? I don't really remember what I said. I remember seeing you."

"You said that what Janssen had done wasn't your fault."

"It isn't," Tim said, still looking out at the water. "Janssen blames me for his brother's death."

"Yes, he does."

"But he's wrong, Ducky," Tim said earnestly. "I didn't want his brother to die. I didn't want anyone to die. I remember how it felt when I took that Ecstasy and PMA. It was horrible, painful, agonizing. I hate that anyone had to feel that. I'm really sorry that anyone died. They asked me about that and it was so hard to deal with the knowledge that...that my inactions might have been part of what killed them."

"Of course it was. Timothy, your experiences while undercover cannot be boiled down to a simple good or bad label. Both resulted from that time of your life."

Ducky put his hand on Tim's back. Tim looked at him.

"Ducky, I don't want you to suffer for what happened, either. You've been here through all this crap and...and it's just because you've been so determined to help me."

"And I would do it all again, Timothy."

"I know you would, but, Ducky, I just..."

"You don't want people hurt. I understand that, and I don't want to go through what I went through before, either...but you do you know why I wouldn't be as worried if I did?"

"Why?"

"Because I see such strength in you, Timothy. You have fought back for a long time and you have _won_."

"Won what?" Tim asked, furrowing his brow.

"You have won the battle for your life. It is _your_ life now, Timothy. It's not Thomas' life. It's not Jethro's life. It's not Janssen's life. It's not even _my_ life. It is yours. You get to make your own decisions and I am confident you'll make those decisions with your own best interests in mind, rather than letting the past dictate what you choose."

Tim smiled a little.

"You have a lot more confidence than I do."

"Yes, well, that goes without saying, doesn't it," Ducky said with an answering smile. "But one of the things that has helped me in these last few days is what I _don't_ see in your eyes any longer."

"What's that?"

"I don't see the same kind of shame and self-loathing that used to be in your eyes at every moment. Even as you were getting better, there were so many moments that you would sink back into that same self-destructive cycle. The guilt, the anger, the fear...those are missing now, and I am so happy to see your eyes clear of those emotions. You _have_ won, even if you don't feel like you have. The triumph is in what you've let go."

Tim looked back out at the water, considering what Ducky had said.

"Timothy, I recall a conversation we had, shortly after you left the psychiatric hospital."

"What?"

"I told you that if you gave yourself time, you would make it. Do you know what you said to me?"

Tim shook his head.

"I don't remember."

"You said that you'd try...and that has made all the difference. No matter what choices you make in your life from this point on, you have tried to make it...and you have succeeded. And I have been _honored_ to be permitted to witness your struggle to success."

Tim smiled faintly and thought back to a moment that no one else had been present for.

"I said good-bye to her," he said softly.

"To whom?"

"To Jewel. When I was in Maine, before I came down and told you that I wanted to go back to NCIS. I went out on the beach and I watched tide coming in. I wanted nothing more than to stay where I was. It was so peaceful and I was starting to get it there. ...but I knew that I couldn't just stay there forever, no matter how much I wanted to at that moment. I told her that I couldn't let her poison my mind anymore. I said that I had to let her go...and I've tried to since then. I'm not trying to hold onto her. I'm not trying to focus on her. Jewel has been the dark parts of me and I'm letting her go. It's been hard, but I'm doing it."

"That's wonderful, Timothy," Ducky said softly.

"I can't let myself sink again because I think that I wouldn't be able to get back out."

"You would, but I wouldn't want to see you struggle."

Tim smiled. "And you'd never leave me to do it on my own if I had to."

"Never."

"Ducky, you've saved me so many times. I can't thank you enough for it."

"Yes, you can. Once is enough and more is unnecessary. You've given me the chance to be part of your life. You've been a friend."

"More than that, Ducky. You've been almost family," Tim said. "I don't know of anyone outside my family who has done more to help me than you have. ...and I was really ungrateful in the beginning."

"No, you were grateful. You just couldn't admit it to yourself. I could see that part of you wanted it."

They both fell silent and stared at the bay. For a while, the two men sat side by side with no need to speak. They'd said what they needed to, and they'd both seen each other at low points.

"I've relied on you too much sometimes," Tim said, "but I've always been grateful that I could."

"Always, Timothy."

By unspoken consent, they both got up together and walked back to the car. Tim tired before they reached it, and he was panting a little bit. When he sat down, he took a breath.

"I can't wait until I'm better. I have a life to get back to, Ducky."

"Yes, you do...and I will do what I can to help you get back to it."

They were silent until they got to Tim's apartment. Tim groaned.

"Can I just stay in the car?"

"We'll take it slowly," Ducky said.

True to his word, the pace was extremely slow, allowing Tim to rest as needed. He took a couple of moments before they got there, but they made it without tiring him overly.

"I think you should plan on sleeping as soon as we get you inside," Ducky said.

"No argument here," Tim said.

He pulled out his key and unlocked the door, glad to be home. After opening it, he trudged forward to the little side table where he could drop his keys. Ducky was carrying the bag. He turned toward his bedroom.

...and stopped in his tracks.

"Ducky," he whispered.

"What is it, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"Look."

Tim sank down onto his couch and stared at the corner of the room. Ducky walked over and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim was trembling.

The desk Gibbs had made for him was sitting in the corner of the room...with Tim's typewriter carefully placed on it.

"That's my desk," he whispered.

"Yes."

"Gibbs made that."

"Yes, he did."

"I told him that it didn't fit."

"Looks like he found a place for it."

"Ducky...that's my desk."

"Yes, it is."

"How did it get here?"

"I'd wager that Jethro brought it, probably enlisting Anthony's help at the least."

"I didn't even know he still had it."

"He made it for you. He wouldn't get rid of it without your permission."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is. I think it's the best thing he's made."

Tim couldn't get himself to move. He just sat and stared.

"Wow."

"What are you going to do about it, Timothy?"

That was the question.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The first thing Tim did, though, was take a nap. He was too tired to think about the complicated nature of his relationship with his old team. So he had stared at the desk for a few minutes and then let himself fall into bed. He didn't know how Ducky felt about that, but Tim was too tired to care. He just wanted to sleep.

However, when he woke up a few hours later, he was alert enough to start thinking about it. He walked back into the living room and looked at the desk. He still remembered very vividly when Gibbs had shown it to him. His mind had been a whirl of confusion and fear at the time, and he had been unable to fathom the possibility that it would ever fit into his life. Ever. Now... here it was. There was no note, not that he needed one. He knew that Gibbs had brought it. He knew _why_ Gibbs had done it, more or less.

Now, he needed to decide how he felt about it.

Ducky was dozing on the couch, and Tim didn't want to disturb him. He walked over to the desk. Quietly, he pulled out the chair and sat down. Gently, he ran his fingers over the clean lines of the desk. The cool metal, the dark wood, the fancy drawer pulls. It was a piece of art.

In actuality, Tim didn't feel worthy of the gift Gibbs had given him. He knew that Gibbs would scoff at that, but this... Tim wasn't a good judge of pricing, but he would guess that something of this quality would easily sell for upwards of two thousand dollars. He knew that Gibbs had spent months making it. He knew that moving it in here must have been a royal pain. He knew all that, and he knew that Gibbs didn't begrudge him any of it.

That was what made it so difficult to know what to do. There was only a simple desire for forgiveness. Matt was right. Tim hadn't really forgiven them. He hadn't taken that final step which was why things remained so awkward. He understood what they had done. He had accepted it. He no longer hated them for it. ...but he hadn't forgiven them. Matt and Judith had talked about their beliefs with him before, and he knew that they believed in forgiving everyone, no matter the situation. God would forgive the people who were truly repentant, but as imperfect human beings, they were supposed to forgive everyone. Tim wasn't sure he could agree with that, but in this case...

"We were friends before," he whispered. And if he was truly honest with himself, he missed that friendship. He treasured the friendship that had developed with Ducky. He treasured the continued friendship with Abby and the developing friendship with Jimmy...the people he had turned to in desperation to have some kind of friendship. But he also valued the people he was now interacting with, the possibility of friendship with Alex and Stan.

When he'd been in high school and then the first couple of years of college, he had said that all he wanted was one friend. He now had many more than that.

"Do I need more than I have?"

Was it really a matter of _needing_ more friends? What did he _want_? That was more important.

He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. It was hard to know what he should do. ...or rather, what he _wanted_ to do.

"Why am I making this so hard?"

For now, he was stuck here and the kinds of conversations he needed to have were too difficult for him to manage in his current state. He'd have to wait, but he needed to figure out just what he wanted to do before the situation arose...as he knew it would. They had visited him in the hospital. They had been there. They had saved him. He had to figure out what he wanted and he had to be up front about it. They deserved to know...and to weigh in themselves.

It was such a beautiful desk.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later..._

Tim hung up the phone and started fidgeting nervously. He looked at the phone and then walked into the kitchen where Judith and Matt were trying to get Sariah to take her bottle. She was fussy and hungry and that was a bad combination. Tim had come to stay with them just a few days ago. Ducky was happy to have Tim nearby still, but it gave him a bit of a break and allowed Tim to stay with some of his other friends. He didn't need to be cared for as much now that he was getting better, and so he had managed to stay out of their way as they adjusted to a baby girl _and_ a demanding toddler. They loved it, but with Sariah not feeling well, they had extra things to adjust to. For one thing, Sariah was a little highstrung where Chris was mellow. When she cried it was hard to comfort her.

Tim sat down and watched as Sariah finally consented to take the bottle and was eagerly eating. There was an audible sigh of relief and Judith started rocking Sariah as she ate.

"Success?" Tim asked, keeping his voice low.

Judith smiled and nodded.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked.

"Director Vance," Tim said and was unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

"What is it, Tim?" Matt asked. "What did he want?"

"I don't know. He needs to talk to me, he said."

"About what happened?"

"I don't know. I was going to try and sound confident so you didn't have to worry about me," Tim said with a weak smile. "But I can't. I'm too worried."

"Why?"

Tim's smile became a bit rueful. "Because I worry about everything."

"Well, take Chris out to play in the pool. That'll get your mind off it. When's the meeting?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. He wants me to come in tomorrow. He said that he was waiting until I was recovered enough."

"He's not going to put you back to work already, is he?" Judith asked. "You're not recovered enough for that!"

"I don't think so. I hope not. My current fitness level is once around the house, chasing Chris. Then, I'm ready for a nap."

Matt chuckled.

"Once around the house chasing Chris would tire anyone out."

Chris came running into the kitchen.

"Tim! Outside?"

"Sure, Chris. You want to play in the pool?"

"Pool! Pool!"

"Okay. Let's go get your shorts on," Tim said.

Chris grabbed Tim by the hand and dragged him out of the kitchen. Tim helped Chris into his swimming shorts and then they went out into the backyard. Matt and Judith had managed to train Chris not to get into the pool by himself, but that didn't mean that they didn't still watch him like hawks when he ran out the door.

Tim got into the pool with Chris and held out his arms. Without any hesitation, Chris jumped into the pool where Tim could catch him. He had complete trust that Tim would keep him from getting hurt. He squealed happily as Tim helped him play in the deep end before moving him to the shallow end of the pool where Chris could touch on his own. There, they played with the pool toys until Tim got too tired. He was slowly getting his energy back, but it was a long time coming. He'd had a very close brush with death, and that was something his body was telling him was unacceptable. Tim was willing to deal with it if it meant that he'd be back to normal eventually.

Matt came out, saw how tired Tim was and pulled a protesting Chris out of the pool and forced him inside, ignoring Tim's assertion that he was okay. After the door closed on Chris' whine, Tim closed his eyes and leaned back on the steps, trying to get his heart to slow down. It felt like he'd just run a marathon.

"You all right, Tim?"

Tim squinted up and saw Judith hovering over him.

"Yeah. I just forgot how much I still need to recover."

Judith sat down and dangled her feet in the water. Tim pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"How's Sariah?"

"Sleeping now that she's sated. Anyone who wants to claim that babies don't come with their own personalities should compare Chris and Sariah. They're as different as can be. Love them both, but I hope that Sariah calms down. Thanks so much for playing with Chris as much as you do. He loves you."

"Yeah." Tim stared at the water, suddenly struck by a thought.

"What is it, Tim?"

"He trusts me. I was in the pool. I held out my arms and he jumped. He didn't hesitate."

"Of course. He knows you won't drop him."

"I wish I could trust like that."

Judith smiled.

"Chris is a child, and young one at that. He's never had any reason to question that people will always be trying to make his life good. You've seen some of the worst mankind has to offer."

"I envy him."

"So do I. People at his beck and call. Everything taken care of. He has a nice life going...but then, so did you and I...and Matt. Not all children have that blessing."

Tim smiled.

"Does that mean you'll adopt more?"

"If we can. We have the means to take care of a lot of kids, and more importantly, we have the love to share. If we can do it, we will."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, Tim. When are you going to talk to your old team?"

"I don't know. It's been so hard to get back to where I was that I've set the harder stuff to the side. That includes them. I need to talk to them, but not all at once and...and now...I can't worry about them when I'm worrying about talking to Vance."

Judith smiled and patted Tim on the shoulder.

"You know that you don't really need to worry, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I trust Director Vance. I just...can't help worrying."

"Well, how long are you going to stay out here?"

"Forever?" Tim suggested.

"Probably not a good idea."

"Just a few more minutes. Then, I'll come inside. I don't want to sit out here and give Chris a reason to complain."

"He's almost three. He doesn't need a reason," Judith said, but she stood up. "Tim, I'm really glad that you're taking care of yourself again. Even with the recovery you still have to make, I'm glad you're making it, and no matter what you choose to do, you know that you'll have our support."

"I know. Thanks, Judith."

Judith went inside and Tim leaned back again, enjoying the feel of the warm water and the warm sunshine. It was tempting just to let himself fall asleep there, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Still, he relaxed in the silence.

...until the silence was broken...not by speech but by someone's approach. Tim noticed it and didn't move for a moment. But as the person didn't speak, Tim began to wonder who it was. He opened his eyes and sat up. ...and then, he felt a little embarrassed by the fact that he was sitting there just in his swimming trunks. He knew that his hair could use a trim. He was only now filling out again after his experience. Overall, he'd looked better, but if he'd been dressed, it wouldn't have been so painfully obvious. He started to get up.

"Don't need to get up on my account."

Tim smiled and continued to stand.

"Gibbs...what are you doing here?"

"I think we need to talk."

Tim climbed out of the pool and walked over to Gibbs.

"Right now?"

"Unless you have other plans."

Tim sat down on one of the deck chairs.

"Okay. Talk," he said.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"You're looking better," Gibbs said.

"If you're comparing me to how I looked in Janssen's tender care, that's not saying much," Tim said.

"Overall...you're looking better."

"Thanks."

There was a moment of silence and Tim looked at Gibbs closely. He seemed relaxed, but then, it took a lot for Gibbs to show any discomfort.

"What do we need to talk about?" Tim asked. He knew what he himself needed to talk to Gibbs about, but he didn't know what Gibbs felt they needed to talk about.

Gibbs smiled. "Probably the same thing that you need to talk to me about."

Tim flushed.

"Well? Am I right?"

"The desk," Tim said.

"Exactly."

"I told you before that it didn't fit in my life."

"Fit pretty well when I put it in your apartment."

Tim smiled.

"It's a bigger place."

"A lot nicer, too."

"Yeah."

"Does it fit now?"

"I told you to do what you wanted with it," Tim said.

"I remember."

"It's so beautiful, Gibbs. It's...you could get hundreds of dollars if you sold it. Maybe even thousands. People would buy it. They'd _fight_ over it. It's so well made."

"I've never made anything to sell it. That's not why I do it."

"But it would have been okay! I hadn't even _thought_ of the desk in ages," Tim said, losing his nerve to talk about the important stuff.

"I made it for you."

"As a metaphor, and I get the metaphor."

"Good."

"Gibbs...I don't deserve something like that."

"Why not?"

"You started making it for me when I hated you."

"You hated yourself a lot more."

"That doesn't make any difference! I hated you, and I was afraid of even talking to you."

"Tim, I made the desk for you, knowing that you might decide to destroy it just because you hated me. You decided not to, and that doesn't mean that it's not your desk anymore. Do you want it?"

Tim was quiet for a few seconds. He knew that answering a simple question like that was answering another unspoken question. A question that was a lot more important.

"I never forgave you guys. I stopped being mad, and I stopped blaming you for everything. I'm not afraid of you anymore. ...but I didn't actually forgive you."

"The desk is still yours. Do you want it? Not do you deserve it? I don't care if you deserve it. Do you want it?"

"I don't think I ever really thanked you for fixing the teddy bear Janssen ruined. I didn't want to bring it up because...well...it's a teddy bear, and I shouldn't value it so much. ...but I was really grateful for what you all did."

There was a long silence and then Gibbs sighed.

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"What for?"

"For everything that's led you here."

"But, Gibbs–"

"No. Let me finish. I should have said this from the beginning. You lost your whole life because of my little game with Vance. I let my ego take precedence over noticing that you were having trouble, and I didn't reign in Tony and Ziva when it would have been easy to do. We all could have noticed if we'd taken the time for it. What you were doing was hard enough and you needed someone who would have been there to hear you crying in your sleep, to notice that there was something going on needing our attention. Then, after it was over, and you were gone, I let it stay that way. I let that be the end. Ducky's the only one who was determined not to let you destroy yourself. The rest of us convinced ourselves that we couldn't do anything and we weren't willing to do what we needed to do. Ducky told me about when you went back to the hospital. He said it was because of Jewel."

"Mostly was."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I was... It was the nightmares more than her. I kept seeing myself killing her and then killing me. We were the same person and I was destroyed by being willing to kill, to destroy a woman who had been a good girl and threw it all away. I couldn't see any other just thing except to die...but part of me knew that was wrong. That's why I called Ducky. I wanted him to tell me I was wrong."

"That's what you wanted from the rest of us, too, wasn't it."

"I don't know. I don't know what I wanted back then. Gibbs, I don't think you can really understand how messed up I was. I was _really_ messed up. In the worst moments, what I wanted to was to destroy myself and see how bad I could make it. If Ducky hadn't saved me, I might have gone over the edge too far and taken some of you with me."

Gibbs looked a little surprised.

"Yes. I was _that_ messed up. It never got to that point, and it never became something I planned, but it could have. It _easily_ could have been that bad."

"And none of us did anything. We made it impossible for you to accept our help, and we didn't take the time. Ducky told us that the reason you didn't trust us is that none of us had given you the chance to rebuild that trust. To the extent we could, we've been trying since then. We're not perfect."

"Neither am I."

"Granted, but we weren't the ones coming off a long undercover assignment."

"You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"I wasn't the right one for the job," Tim said. "Maybe your reasons for disagreeing with Director Vance were wrong, but you were right. All of you were right. I wasn't the one who should have been doing it."

"No, Tim. We were wrong. _I_ was wrong."

"You can look at everything that came out of that and still think you were wrong?"

"Yes. You took down the dealers. You kept casualties to a minimum. You were there to testify. You gathered evidence and did so very thoroughly. It was your skills that made it possible. The price _you_ paid was too high, but the results...I was wrong."

Tim laughed tiredly.

"Please, Gibbs...don't sugarcoat things to make me feel better. I don't need that. Not anymore. I have my job back, and I've learned that undercover isn't for me. I hated every minute of it and I wasn't good at it."

"I don't sugarcoat, Tim. You should know that well enough. Never have, never will. Doing well undercover has nothing to do with liking it or hating. It's whether or not you get the job done. And you did."

"But I did everything wrong. I made my persona badly. I kept things from you all. I had a complete breakdown."

"I'm not saying you didn't make mistakes, Tim. I'm saying that you shouldn't assume that means you're bad at it. If you don't want to do it again, that's one thing. If it's just that you think you shouldn't, that's another."

Tim shrugged.

"Honestly, Gibbs...after all the stuff that's gone on, I'm not ready to think about whether or not you're right about undercover work."

"Fine."

Tim smiled.

"Wow. You made that easy."

Gibbs smiled, too.

"Believe it or not, I've learned from my mistakes with you. I wish you didn't have to pay for my lesson, but I've learned. It's not my place to tell you what to do with your life."

"Thank you."

"But..."

"The desk."

"Yes."

Tim took a breath and let it out.

"I hope you understand why this is so hard for me."

"I do."

"Good...because I don't really want to answer you, but I know that you deserve an answer. ...and I hope that you understand that, no matter what the answer is..."

"It's not going to mean things are perfect."

"Right."

"It's been years, Tim. If we expected perfection, we would have been really disappointed a long time ago."

Tim smiled and leaned back. He stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful day. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to escape from the decision Gibbs wanted him to make, but Gibbs was right. It had been a long time. It was a long time to keep everyone in suspense. As he thought about what he was going to say, he thought about the significance of what Gibbs had done. He had taken the initiative, but not in a heavy-handed way. The way was open and now it was just waiting for Tim to take that step. Gibbs said nothing. He was waiting.

If Tim said yes, that would mean making a real effort to repair the frayed and damaged relationships with his old team. If he said no, that would be cutting himself off from them except in a working situation.

He had seen their efforts in the last year. He knew they were sincere. If nothing else, the effort they'd expended just in repairing the teddy bear showed how intent they were. Tim could admit that.

_Can I accept it?_

He sat up and looked at Gibbs.

"Thanks for moving the desk for me, Gibbs. I really appreciate it. ...saved me getting movers."

Gibbs smiled and nodded.

"My pleasure. The typewriter looks good on it."

"Yeah, it does."

Gibbs got up and walked around the house. Almost as soon as he was gone, the door opened and Matt came out.

"What did he want?"

"Were you hovering?" Tim asked.

"I wasn't listening. I let him in. I knew he was here," Matt said defensively.

"Well, I'm really tired. I think I need a nap."

"Hey! Come on! What did he have to say?"

"He was just asking me about the desk."

Matt rolled his eyes.

"You're not going to put me off that way. I know how important that desk is."

Tim grinned.

"I really am tired. Your son wore me out."

"You can tell me on the way inside."

Matt held out his hand. Tim took it and let Matt pull him up. They started inside.

"I'm keeping the desk," Tim said.

Matt smiled and gave Tim a one-armed hug.

"I'm glad, Tim. I think you'll be glad of it."

"I hope so. It felt...rather momentous, just saying it."

"It _is_. Now, you'll be ready to talk to Vance tomorrow."

"That doesn't necessarily follow, you know."

"I know, but you could try for that."

"I could, but right now, I just want to take a nap. I need to call Ducky and ask him for a ride."

"I could take you."

"I know."

"...but you want Ducky there for whatever happens."

Tim nodded.

"Yeah."

"No problem. I'll remind you to call him tonight."

"Thanks."

Tim went back to the bedroom he was using, the same one he'd stayed in during his disastrous house sitting stint. He walked to the bed, sat down and looked around and then thought about the desk he'd finally accepted.

He smiled to himself and then lay down.

He was asleep in seconds.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Ducky knocked on the door of Matt's house and waited. Tim had called him and said that he had a meeting with Vance. He was clearly nervous about it, but at the same time, when he had called Ducky, he had mostly sounded tired.

Ducky smiled as he thought about that. Although worrisome in the beginning and mostly frustrating now, Tim's lethargy was probably a good thing. He got too tired to worry for long periods of time. ...and he was actually sleeping away his exhaustion. There had been a time when that wouldn't have been the case.

The door opened.

"Good morning, Ducky!" Judith said.

"Ducky! Ducky! Ducky!"

Ducky smiled and Judith laughed.

"I think he loves saying your name. Considering how hard it was for us to get him to talk at all, he likes making as much noise as he can now. Come in."

Ducky chuckled and then waved at Chris as he ran to the front door.

"Ducky!"

"Good morning, Christopher," Ducky said.

There was some thumping on the stairs and Tim came down, dressed very nicely, although the suit was a bit too large for him still.

"Tim, you're still way too skinny," Judith said. "You need to eat more!"

Tim came down the rest of the way and kissed Judith on the cheek.

"I have to take it slow, Judith. You know that. I'm gaining weight nearly every day. Give me a chance!" He looked at Ducky. "Hey, Ducky. I had a premonition that you were here."

"Would that premonition be related to the toddler currently trying to get your attention?" Ducky asked.

Chris was yanking on Tim's hand, trying to pull him to play with him.

"Sorry, Chris. I have to go to a meeting."

"Play!"

"Later."

"Play!"

Tim laughed and knelt down. He looked Chris in the eye, forcing him to stop squirming.

"Later, Chris. I'll be back later today. Okay?"

"'kay."

Tim nodded and stood up again.

"I'm ready to go."

"Are you really?" Ducky asked.

"Yes. Really."

A wail arose from the kitchen. Judith groaned.

"Sariah. Good luck, Tim...not that I think you need it," she said and hurried away.

Tim and Ducky left the house.

"How is multiple children working for them?"

Tim smiled. "I think they'd be happier if Sariah wasn't so fussy."

"Did they name her after your sister?"

Tim chuckled and shook his head. "No. It's from their church, they told me. Complete coincidence."

Ducky started the car and they were on their way to the Yard.

"How are you feeling about your meeting with Director Vance?"

"Nervous. I don't know what it's going to be about. I've already made arrangements to get back to work, but that's not for another month. Alex has already talked with me about it. She has a couple of rotating agents helping her out while I'm here. That's why I'm worried. What else could he be needing to talk to me about?"

"And seeing the others?"

"I'm not nervous about that, really. Gibbs came over yesterday."

"He did?" Ducky asked in surprise. "Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't know. Given that it was Gibbs, he probably knew about the meeting, although if he did, he didn't say anything about it."

"So what _did_ he say?"

"He asked me about the desk."

"And?"

"And I'm keeping it."

"Meaning?"

Tim smiled.

"Meaning that I think I want to...make an effort. I'm just not sure how it will go."

"You can only try," Ducky said, but privately, he was celebrating.

In truth, Tim didn't need to become friends with his old team again in order to heal, but Ducky could see that Tim _wanted_ that friendship. That meant that if he let himself be held back by his lingering fears, he would only be hurting himself, no one else.

The rest of the drive was spent in companionable silence. They had long since passed beyond the need to fill it with meaningless words. When they got to the Yard, they were easily passed in and it wasn't until they got inside the building that Tim really showed any kind of nerves. Even Henry noticed as he passed them in.

"Up for a review, Agent McGee?"

Tim smiled.

"I don't know, Henry."

"Ah, that explains it."

Ducky chuckled and patted Tim on the back.

"You're on your way back to the pink of health, though. I'm glad to see it. The rumors going around the building after you were taken were something else. Of course, Abby was running around in a panic, too, and you know what happens when Abby is panicked."

"Yeah," Tim said ruefully. "Everyone knows it."

"Well, I haven't seen her running around lately."

"That's good...but she doesn't know I'm here," Tim said.

Henry grinned.

"I won't tell her, Agent McGee."

"Thank you," Tim said with exaggerated relief.

They walked to the elevator and Ducky sent it up to the level of Vance's office.

"I'm sure it will all be well, Timothy. Don't worry."

"I hope you're right."

Ducky smiled. "I'll be down in Autopsy giving Dr. Palmer some grief. Just come down when you've finished."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tim said.

Ducky gently pushed Tim off the elevator and then let the doors close. As the elevator descended, he let out his own worried exhale. This would likely be fine, but still, he didn't blame Tim for being worried.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Pamela Long smiled at Tim when he came in.

"Director Vance is waiting for you," she said.

"I don't get any time to compose myself, then?" he asked.

"Nope. Go on in."

"Thanks."

Tim walked into Vance's office and swallowed his anxiety.

"Agent McGee, I'm glad to see you on the mend."

"I'm glad to _be_ on the mend, Director."

"Have a seat."

"What is it that you wanted, Director?" Tim asked as he sat down at the table.

Vance sat down.

"You seem a little nervous, Agent McGee."

"I am. I don't have any idea what you wanted to talk to me about."

"Well, you're not in trouble."

"Good."

Vance smiled.

"I won't leave you in suspense, but let me preface what I'm about to tell you by saying that this in no way requires any action on your part. I want to let you know about something I probably should have told you before, but it's not anything you need to feel obligated to follow if you don't want to."

"Okay?"

Vance actually chuckled.

"Have you met Agent Davidson?"

"Yes. I don't know her very well, but she's the one who took my position on Gibbs' team."

"Exactly. Do you know _why_ she took your position?"

"Because there was a space needing to be filled after I quit?" Tim suggested uncertainly. He had no idea where this was going.

"Yes, but Agent Davidson, in particular, was chosen because I gave Agent Gibbs a choice of agents. The agents I gave him all were agents who would be willing to step aside if you chose to come back."

Tim furrowed his brow.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean that, Agent Davidson was put into a position she always knew she might have to leave...if you wanted to take your desk back."

"You did this?"

"Yes. Now, granted, at the beginning, I was hoping that you'd come to your senses and come back more quickly than you did, but you took me by surprise when you chose to go to Norfolk. I was going to tell you then."

"Why didn't you?" Tim asked.

"Because I could see that going to Norfolk was something you wanted. I also knew that you probably weren't sure about working with your old team again."

"No, I wasn't," Tim said. He thought for a moment. "Who knows about this?"

"Agent Davidson, although I'd be surprised if Agent Gibbs doesn't know as well."

"What are you expecting me to say?"

"Nothing. I want you to know that the possibility exists. Still."

"Almost three years later?" Tim asked incredulously.

Vance nodded. "Yes. Almost three years later. I know that Agent Davidson has been thinking about reducing her time until her son gets a little older. Regardless, she is still willing to step aside should it be asked of her. I have already spoken to her about that."

"Oh."

Tim didn't know what else to say. This was hard to take in. It was something he hadn't even considered as a possibility, and it wasn't something he had thought about.

"Remember what I said, Agent McGee. This doesn't require you to do anything."

"Except make a decision I didn't even know I had," Tim said softly.

"Yes, I suppose, but you deserved to know that the decision exists _and_ I think you're ready for it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Vance smiled.

"This is nothing you have to decide now. You can take all the time you need. I understand that you're not going to be back to work for another month yet?"

"Yeah."

"And I've already been considering expanding Agent Gibbs' team to include another full-time agent. We always have more applicants than we can use at any given time."

Tim felt compelled to add, "And Alex is still bucking for an MCRT out at Norfolk."

"I'm very much aware of that, Agent McGee. I'm glad to see that her brainwashing is working."

"There _was_ an MCRT out there at one point."

"Yes, I know. It was removed in an attempt to centralize the investigations."

"I don't think it works as well as whoever decided that thought it would," Tim said. "Centralizing the lab work might be necessary, but the actual investigations and the basic forensics should be there. With all the ships that come in, all the sailors, we have a need that's not being filled."

"I'll keep that in mind," Vance said. "But the only thing _you_ need to worry about is where you want to be. Agent Davidson is amenable to whatever decision is made. I have options if you choose not to move here, and you are needed in Norfolk...at least according to Agent Grandon who would resist losing her agent. ...but again, you don't need to worry about anyone but yourself."

"But my decision could possibly affect a lot of people," Tim said.

"Yes, but not negatively; so you just need to decide. I will support whatever decision you make. Goodness knows, I made a mess of it the last time."

"No, sir. It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours, either, Agent McGee," Vance said firmly. "That's why I'm giving you a chance and also why I'm not making it mandatory. This is your decision. Strictly from a career standpoint, let me lay it out for you. If you choose to come back to Gibbs' team, you'll be back to your former position. Until Agent Gibbs retires, things look to be pretty static. Your position is good but without much chance for advancement in the near future. Depending on what you want, that could be fine, but if you want to get higher in the organization, that could be detrimental."

"Unlike six months in a psychiatric facility?" Tim asked.

"If you chose to stay with Agent Grandon," Vance continued, as if Tim hadn't spoken, "you'd be a case agent which is a lower position, _but_ if and when the eventual MCRT is formed there, you would more than likely step in as senior field agent under Agent Grandon, a definite step up. Plus, because you'd be part of establishing the methods and procedures out at Norfolk, that would be an excellent addition to your resume. ...and as for your time spent recovering from the undercover operation, no one came out of that smelling like a rose, including me. None of us have lost our positions. Only you did, and that was as a result of the decision you made. If you had stayed on at NCIS and been committed, as might have happened, it would not have reflected badly on you. Deep undercover is difficult to deal with and not everyone has the temperament for it. I think you did a fine job in a bad situation. So don't keep looking on that period as something you can't overcome. You've already overcome it. Let it go."

Tim was surprised at what Vance said. Somehow, he hadn't ever really looked at it that way. He had been looking at his breakdown as something that would always cast a pall over his life, something he would always be paying for. ...and now, Vance was saying that he wouldn't. He'd already paid.

"Do you really believe that, sir?"

"Believe what?"

"That I've already overcome that period?"

"Yes," Vance said simply. "You're back here. You're an agent. If the hiring committee hadn't thought you could handle it, or if they hadn't believed that you were recovered, you wouldn't have been hired. I said nothing to them. Gave them no instructions. You got in on your merits."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Maybe not, but I'm still doing it."

"Let me know when you decide."

Vance stood up and then, Tim stood as well. He shook Vance's hand and started for the door...but then, he realized that he didn't need the time to decide. He turned back.

"Director Vance?"

"Yes, Agent McGee?"

"Can I tell you my decision right now?"

"Of course. If you're sure."

"I am."

"All right."

Vance gestured back at the table and Tim walked back to his seat. He sat down and looked at Vance for a moment.

"Before you tell me, Agent McGee, make sure this is what you want. Because, while things could still be changed one way or the other after, once the official paperwork goes through, it'll be much harder."

"Understood."

"All right. What's your decision?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Tim walked down to the bullpen.

"Hey, McGee! How are you doing?" Tony asked, standing up as soon as he saw him.

"I'm all right, Tony," Tim said. "Still getting there, but I'm not bad."

"You are looking better," Ziva said. "I had heard you were back in DC, but what brings you _here_?"

"I had a meeting with Vance." Tim looked at Tony and Ziva and then over at Gibbs. "Where's Agent Davidson?"

"Oh, she has the day off today," Tony said. "Jamie tries to be with Daniel about once a week."

"Daniel?"

"Her son. He is almost a year old," Ziva said. "I think that Vance is considering adding another member to our team; so that we have a full complement all the time."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if Jamie decides to go part time soon," Tony added.

Tim smiled. They were talking about someone they knew well. No matter what guilt that might still linger on their side, they'd accepted Jamie. He was glad.

"So...what was the meeting?" Tony asked.

"Actually...would you guys be willing to join me for dinner tonight?"

"You paying?" Tony asked.

Tim smiled. "Sure."

"What's this about?" Gibbs asked.

"There are some things I think we need to talk about...or at least some things I need to say to you all."

"Then, why don't you come to my house instead?" Gibbs suggested.

"That's fine with me. Any requests? I can pick up some takeout."

"Chinese?" Tony suggested. "The good stuff, not the crap we always pick up here?"

"Okay. I'm fine with that. When should I be there?"

"Plan on seven," Gibbs said. "We'll call if something comes up."

"Okay. Thanks. You want me to just pick something out for you?"

"I will trust you," Ziva said. "You may choose for me."

"Oh, definitely...since you're paying and all," Tony said.

Tim nodded. "All right. Then, I'll see you tonight."

"Looking forward to it, McGee," Tony said.

Tim smiled, amazed at how different things felt, even since he'd been working at NCIS again. As he waved and then headed down to Autopsy, he thought about the choice he'd made. In a way, it was almost spontaneous, but at the same time, it was a decision that had been in the making for a long time. He just hadn't realized it.

The elevator opened and he walked into Autopsy...and it felt like he was walking back in time.

Ducky and Jimmy were both in scrubs, leaning over a body. Ducky was pointing to some exposed innards. Tim paused where he was. Apparently, they hadn't heard the door because neither man looked up.

"And of course, Dr. Palmer, the liver was long recognized as a vital part of the body. In Antiquity, it was actually considered the seat of emotion. Instead of loving someone with all your heart, you would love them with all your liver."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's larger than the heart. Circulation of the blood wasn't understood. Actually, the brain was considered a cooling organ, meant to keep the body from overheating, kind of internal air conditioner. Certainly, it wasn't considered as important to thought as we now know it to be."

"Fascinating. When did they figure out blood circulation?"

"Much later. There was a man in the Islamic empire who had hypothesized about circulation, but it wasn't until the so-called Scientific Revolution in Europe that a man by the name of Harvey conclusively showed that the heart acted like a pump. He did vivisections on deer. I dare say that the deer didn't appreciate it, but much was learned from his investigations."

"Like now?" Tim asked with a smile.

Ducky looked up and smiled back.

"I had nothing better to do, Timothy; so don't grin like the Cheshire Cat."

Tim laughed.

"No, it was nice to see. Like old times."

"Only better," Ducky said.

"Why's that?"

"Because Dr. Palmer has to deal with all the forms."

Jimmy laughed easily, clearly comfortable in his role.

"Actually, I've got them all digitized now. I just have to get on the computer and enter in the information. So much easier."

"You younger generation who have to have everything on the computer," Ducky said with a _tsk_.

"Admit it, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "You wish I had thought of it when you were still working."

"I'll admit nothing of the sort."

Tim laughed.

"Now, Timothy, tell me. What was the meeting about?"

"About...whether or not I'd like to come back and be on Gibbs' team again."

"What?" Ducky asked in surprise.

Jimmy's eyes widened.

"How? They have a full team right now," he said.

"Yeah, but apparently, Agent Davidson was put on the team with the understanding that she'd have to step aside if I wanted to come back."

"Really? How long has this been the case?"

"From the beginning," Tim said. "Vance said that he gave her that instruction when he put her as an option for Gibbs to choose."

"Wow," Jimmy said. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to Gibbs and Tony and Ziva tonight. We're going to have dinner. I'd rather let them know first."

"Of course, if you feel that's best," Ducky said. "We'll try to contain our curiosity."

"I'll tell you. I promise," Tim said.

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah. I'm kind of tired. I want to take a nap."

"Of course. Just let me get out of these scrubs."

"You could take them with you, Dr. Mallard. I don't mind," Jimmy said with a grin.

"No, lad. I don't mind not wearing them all day long. Make sure you test that..."

"I know, Dr. Mallard. I've already got that on my list of tests to go to Abby. Actually, tomorrow, I'm going to be interviewing for an assistant. Isn't that trippy?"

"An assistant?" Tim repeated. "Cool. You're really moving up in the world."

"I know. Next stop...Broadway!"

Ducky rolled his eyes and headed off to change.

"You seem a _lot_ better than you were, Tim," Jimmy said. "And I'm not talking about your physical ability. You're so much more...I don't know, confident, maybe?"

"I'm not feeling extremely confident, Jimmy...but I'm feeling more...ready for things that could arise. It's not confidence, though. It's just..."

"Calm," Jimmy said suddenly. "You're calm, and you haven't been that way for a long time. It's like...whatever comes, you'll be okay, and you know it." He hesitated and then continued, "The universe isn't telling you you're worthless anymore."

Tim was startled by that.

"Remember? Last year, you said that you needed Ducky to contradict the universe because the universe was telling you to stop trying."

Tim nodded. "I remember. I surprised that _you_ do, though."

"I don't forget things if I don't want to," Jimmy said. "I guess I didn't want to forget that."

"Why not? I do."

"Because then I have a good basis for comparing."

Tim smiled.

"Thanks, Jimmy."

Ducky came back in.

"Are you ready to go, Timothy?"

"Yeah, I am. See you later, Jimmy."

Jimmy waved and got back to work. Tim and Ducky walked back out of NCIS and to the parking lot.

"You seem rather content, Timothy."

"I feel pretty content. A little worried, but I think that's pretty normal in my situation. Big decisions are worrisome."

"They can be, yes."

"But I think I made the right decision."

"Good. When you get back from your dinner, you _will_ call me."

Tim laughed.

"Okay. I promise."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The taxi pulled up in front of Gibbs' house. Tim leaned forward, paid the driver and then got out, heavily laden with bags of Chinese food. He'd slept all afternoon and then headed out with as much energy as he could expect to have in one day. Matt and Judith had turned into worried parents and warned him not to overexert himself.

Other than having to lug dinner to the door, Tim knew that he wouldn't have to do any heavy lifting. Still, he would probably tire before the others were ready to be done. That was okay. This was more than just hanging out, although he hoped there wouldn't be too much awkwardness.

The door opened before he got to it, and Tony and Ziva both came out.

"Did you get enough to feed the entire Navy?" Tony asked.

"Nope, but I know how much you eat, Tony," Tim said.

Ziva laughed.

"He is only saying that to hide the fact that he will likely take leftovers with him."

"I am not!"

"Well, you're welcome to," Tim said. "Matt and Judith are feeding me so well that I'm surprised I haven't exploded."

"You don't look like you're getting too much, Tim," Tony said seriously.

"It takes time to get back what I had, Tony. I'm gaining weight. I promise."

They went inside and deposited the containers.

"Eat first. Talk after," Gibbs said.

"I'm okay with that," Tim said. "I've been pretty removed from everything the last few weeks. What happened with Jordan Michaels and his family?"

Tony looked at one container and bypassed it with exaggerated horror.

"That must be for you, Ziva. Ah...lo mein. That's mine."

Tony was focused on making sure everyone got food; so Ziva began.

"Sasha Michaels will be in rehab for a long while from what we know, but she will hopefully recover. She has given her statement regarding the home invasion and the men who kept her and her son prisoner in their own home until Jordan Michaels returned. With the statements from all of them, the surviving men are not fighting the charges."

"What were they doing?"

Tony swallowed his mouthful and answered. "Trying to get Michaels to steal information for them...which they then planned to sell to the highest bidder. They're spilling their guts on the potential buyers. It's turning into a good chance to thin the ranks of these freelancers."

"And the Michaels family is going to be okay?" Tim asked.

"It's going to take time, Tim," Gibbs said. "They've all had problems with it, but they're together and they're working through it together. They'll make it, given time."

Tim nodded. They continued to talk about cases, about various agents. Tony, of course, added in some movie talk. Tim told them about Matt and Judith and how they were struggling to get used to two children instead of just one.

After they'd finished eating and gathered up the empty containers, Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

Tony and Ziva fell silent and looked at Tim expectantly.

"Well...maybe this isn't news to you, but it was to me and I think you need to know about it if you don't already."

"What?"

"Vance wanted to talk to me to tell me about something he'd done back when I first quit NCIS."

"What did he do?" Tony asked.

"The reason you have Agent Davidson on your team, her specifically instead of someone else...is because...when I quit Vance picked people to take my place who would be willing to step aside if I chose to come back."

Tony and Ziva both sat back. They looked at each other and then at Gibbs.

"You knew?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs nodded. "Jamie told me. Last year."

"So...the only reason she's there is because Vance made her be a placeholder?" Tony asked.

"No. The reason why it was her instead of someone else is because Vance gave her an instruction...that she might be moved again if I came back."

"And Vance just told you this today?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah."

"Why today?"

Tim smiled a little.

"Because he wanted to tell me that the option was still open."

"So...when are you coming back?" Tony asked.

Tim took a deep breath and let it out. This was the hard part.

"I'm not," he said softly. "I told Vance that I wanted to stay at Norfolk."

"But why?" Tony asked. "Is it us?"

"No!" Tim said quickly. "No, it's not you. That's why I wanted to talk to you. So that you didn't get the wrong idea because this isn't about you guys having done something wrong."

"But we did, Tim," Ziva said with a faint smile. "We all know that."

"Yeah...I know, but I forgive you guys for that. I really do. It may not even matter to you at this point, but I do. I'd been thinking about it ever since I saw that desk in my apartment."

"You told Gibbs that you were keeping it," Tony said.

"I am...and I appreciate what you did, Boss," Tim said to Gibbs. "And I'm really grateful for what you guys did trying to repair that stupid teddy bear that I care about way more than I should. I had given up on it, and you made it whole again."

"Using the term very loosely," Tony said with a smile.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter. But what I'm trying to say is that my choice to stay at Norfolk doesn't have anything to do with what you guys did back then. It doesn't have anything to do with the teddy bear or the desk or the devotion you all showed in trying to find me when Janssen was..." Tim shook his head, not wanting to verbalize what had happened. "It's not about that."

"Then, what is it?" Ziva asked, sounding a little distressed. "I will admit that I always hoped that you would come back."

"I never even considered it as a possibility," Tim said. "Not once...for one thing, I didn't think there was a chance you'd want to work with me again."

"We do," Tony said simply.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Really. I made your lives pretty miserable for a while, I think. That you trust me enough to want to work with me again...it means a lot."

"I think our mistakes trump yours," Tony said.

"I don't even want to go there, Tony. I'm ready to put all that in the past. I'm ready to move on."

"So if you weren't planning on coming back here, why tell us about the option at all?"

"Because...and this is going to sound sappy and maybe silly and trite, but I want to be friends again. I want to be able to come here and hang out. When you guys come down to Norfolk, I want to be able to do things with you, and I want you to know that it's something I really want, not just something I do because we're working together again. I've chosen to stay at Norfolk because I've really enjoyed working with Alex there. I've enjoyed the challenges involved in getting back into being an agent again. I like the variety of people we see with all the ships coming in...and when Alex finally browbeats Vance into reinstituting an MCRT there, I'll be on it. It'll be a great boost to my career to be able to have that. I'd more than likely be the senior field agent."

"And that is really what you want? To stay at Norfolk?" Ziva asked. "Are you sure that it is not because of us?"

"I'm positive," Tim said. "When Vance told me that I could choose to come back, there was one wild moment when I thought that I could just push the reset button and have everything back the way it was...but that's not going to ever happen, and really, I don't _want_ it to happen. I want to move on."

"Moving on requires being in Norfolk?" Gibbs asked, speaking for about the first time.

"Maybe not, but I feel like it's where I should be, and more than that, it's where I _want_ to be...but I also want to be friends again. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm ready to be who I'm going to be. I don't know exactly what it will be yet, but I'm ready to take that leap. I've been trying to be myself again, to throw off all that crap I took on."

"And you really want to be friends again?" Ziva asked.

"Yes. When I saw that desk sitting there...it was something I would never have asked for, and you just seemed to know that I needed that push, Gibbs. I did. It would have been so easy to coast along the way I was without evaluating, without taking any risk. I feel like I'm taking a risk now. I'm putting out there what I want. Career-wise, I have no doubts and no regrets. I might wish that I could be closer to DC, but I'm willing to put forth the effort...if you want to. If you don't, that's another thing all together."

"We do," Ziva said.

She got up and walked over to where Tim was sitting and she hugged him tightly.

"I thought that was Abby's thing," Tim said with a smile.

Ziva pulled back and kissed him on the cheek.

"I have missed having you as a friend, Tim. I really have."

"I'm not going to kiss you, but I have, too," Tony said. He gave a more manly thump on the back.

"Thanks."

"And if Vance doesn't start an MCRT out at Norfolk soon, I think Alex is going to implode," he added.

Tim smiled. "I know, but he hinted that it might be coming soon."

"I hope so. For your sake," Ziva said.

Tim felt his tension easing. He had been worried about this, but Tony and Ziva did seem to be accepting what he said.

"Thanks, guys. I hope you understand."

"I don't know if we really do," Tony said honestly, "but I can see that you're happy about it and if you want to try and get the best of both worlds...obviously, we're the best thing about headquarters."

Tim smiled.

"If that's what you want, then, really, we can't say anything against it."

"You could."

"But we've learned our lesson and I'm trying to listen. I know it's hard for me since I like talking, but if this is what you want..."

"It is."

"Then, great! Go for it. I just have one question."

"What's that?" Tim asked, his brow furrowing a little.

"Can I still call you _Probie_?"

Tim grinned.

"Yeah, Tony. You can. Technically, I still am."

"Then, I'm happy, Probie."

"I'm glad it was so easy."

The tiredness that always lurked around the edges of his days began to assert itself and Tim couldn't suppress a yawn.

"Sorry, guys, I'm still getting back there."

"Oh, no. That's fine. How much longer are you going to stay in DC?"

"Probably another couple of weeks at least. I'm not back at work for a month and Ducky and Matt like fussing over me. My parents are coming next week to make sure that I'm not dying."

"Then, we will see you," Ziva said.

"Yeah. If you have time."

"We will _make_ time," she said.

Tim nodded. "Gibbs, can I use your phone? I need to get a taxi."

"I'll give you a ride," he said.

"You don't have to. It's pretty far up there."

"No, I will."

"Thanks."

Tony and Ziva both got up. Tim did as well and was surprised when Tony gave him a quick hug.

"Don't get used to that," Tony said.

"I won't."

Tony gave him a thumbs up and then he and Ziva left.

"You ready to go?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. I need to go to bed. I've actually been sleeping really well."

"No nightmares?"

"Not nearly as many. I still have a few, but most of them lately have been about Janssen. I'm still meeting with Dr. Lewis occasionally, and he says that it's to be expected."

"Not Jewel?"

Tim smiled and shook his head.

"No. Not Jewel."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Me, too."

They got in the car. At first, it was silent and Tim was almost dozing, but as Gibbs came to a stop at a light, Tim woke himself up.

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I made the right choice?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because...I actually respect your opinion."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"It's not my place to tell you what to do."

"I know. I'm not asking you that," Tim said with a bit of a smile.

"Then, yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because it's what you want and it's not another way of punishing yourself for mistakes you made in the past. That makes it right because...we won't be negatively affected by it. Sure, we'd like to have to you back, but it's not going to hurt us if we don't. If you're choosing what's best for _you_, then, you've made the right choice."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Not your boss anymore, McGee. Haven't been for a long time."

"But you used to be...and if you don't mind, it might slip out from time to time."

"I don't mind."

"Good."

They lapsed into silence again until Gibbs pulled up to Matt and Judith's home. Tim started to get out.

"Tim."

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

"For what?"

"For getting your life back."

Tim smiled.

"Thanks."

Gibbs just nodded. Tim got out of the car and went inside. He told Matt and Judith what had happened and then he got on the phone and called Ducky. He told him his choice.

Then, he went to bed.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

_Three months later..._

Tim woke up early and took Jethro out for a run. He was not quite back to normal, but he was getting close. Alex had been extremely patient with his slow recovery. He'd come back to work on a schedule that allowed him mostly desk work at first and then slowly getting out of the office. There was always plenty to do, and Tim felt that he was working hard even when he was just sitting around at his desk.

Now, he could go for a short run and not feel tired out by the exercise. It was a relief to be better. It was a relief that he _could_ get better. He had been called on to testify at Janssen's hearing, and he had done so. Janssen was pleading not guilty by reason of insanity, and that meant a trial. Tim would be involved in it, and while he wasn't happy about it, he would do it. He still was talking with Dr. Lewis on occasion, but because his residence was permanently in Norfolk, Dr. Lewis had given him a recommendation for another psychiatrist. Tim could acknowledge that he might need this kind of help long term.

Better safe than sorry.

He got ready for the day and headed in to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim got right to work when he arrived. There was always a lot to do.

About halfway through the morning, he got a phone call. He smiled, knowing who it would be.

"Good morning, Tony. How's the training going?"

"_I thought _you_ were green!"_ Tony exclaimed. _"This guy is going to drive me absolutely insane!"_

"_He loves it, Tim. Do not let him fool you,"_ Ziva said. _"He has been over the moon about being able to train someone new."_

Tim laughed.

"_I have not! And I didn't ask for a guy who hasn't ever seen a gun outside of a video game to be at my beck and call."_

"_You are exaggerating, Tony. He passed all his courses at FLETC."_

"_I think he cheated."_

"Tony, I don't think I've ever heard you so happy before," Tim said.

"_Ha ha. You were much better to train."_

"That's because you didn't _need_ to train me. You could just have me at your beck and call...without all that pesky _work_."

Tony laughed.

"_Well, Agent Pussy Pants is supposed to be taking Jamie's place next month when she goes to part time and I don't think I want him on my six."_

"I guess you'll just have to step it up."

"_Agent Dorneget is good at his job. He is just inexperienced."_

"And he's got to be better at using the computer than you are, Tony," Tim said.

There was a knock on his office door.

"Come in. Hey, Tony, Ziva, I've got work to do."

"_Yeah, so do I,"_ Tony groaned. _"Making this guy fit to carry a weapon."_

"Good luck."

The door creaked open and the most recent case agent stuck his head in.

"Hey, Agent McGee?"

Tim smiled and hung up the phone.

"What is it, Agent Murphy? Come all the way in."

Loren Murphy, a _very_ new hire, came into the office rather hesitantly.

"I didn't mean to bother you, but I've been going through all the old case files we have stored here like Agent Grandon told me to, and I've found one that I don't know what to do with it."

"No bother. While Alex is in DC, I'm the one in charge; so I'm the one to come to."

Loren nodded with a relief.

"What's the case?"

"It's from quite a few years ago, ten years."

Tim smiled. That was when he'd started working for NCIS the _first_ time.

"How old are you, Agent Murphy?" Tim used his title because Loren seemed really uncertain, more so even than he himself had been in the beginning.

"Well...I'm only 24."

"Really?"

"I applied as soon as I finished my Master's."

"In what?"

"Huh?"

"What was your Master's degree in?"

"Oh...just history. I already knew I was going to apply here, but I figured that knowing more about where we come from couldn't hurt. They say that those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it."

_How true that is,_ Tim thought to himself ruefully. He had learned the lesson the hard way.

"So why were you so eager?"

"Well, I'm actually a Navy brat. My dad was stationed in Italy, and when I was about ten, he was accused of embezzling. He didn't do it, but he was accused of it by some guys below him who resented the way he worked. The NCIS people came in to investigate, of course, and they cleared him, found the real guys and...and, I don't know. I just decided that was what I wanted, to be able to find the truth when it might be hard to find."

"Don't be embarrassed. I can't think of a better reason to choose this as a goal."

Loren fidgeted a little and Tim smiled. He picked up the file and then blinked in surprise.

"Agent Murphy, did you think of looking at who filed this report?"

"Uh...no. I didn't think I'd know who it was. I've only been working for NCIS for a month."

Tim slid the report back across his desk. Loren picked it up, looked for the name and then flushed.

"You see the Agent McGee there?" Tim asked.

"I'm sorry!"

Tim laughed. "Don't apologize. That's just to let you know that you've come to the right person...and not to overlook anything. This was one of the first cases I worked on."

"But it's listed as being part of a DC investigation. That's why I didn't know what to do with it. I couldn't figure out why it was here. ...and I thought you'd only been working for NCIS for a year."

"This time. I was an agent for seven years...and then I quit. Now, I'm back again."

"Oh."

"The reason this report is here is because Norfolk was my first posting as a case agent. I had received a request from an agent in DC who wanted me to look up civilian files in the Buford courthouse. I thought it was strange, especially when he told me to call him at his home, not at NCIS. He also asked me to requisition some equipment. I did that, and when the case was done, I filed my report."

Loren was leaning forward, looking eager.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"The agent, Agent Pacci, he was murdered. In order to find out who had done it, we followed his footsteps. He'd been investigating a cold case, and we traced his investigation to a woman by the name of Amanda Reed. We set up a stakeout, observed her for a couple of days, and then, in the end we discovered that she was actually a man who had stolen millions of dollars and then faked his own death. He...She..whatever... Voss was his name. He had killed Agent Pacci when he realized Pacci was on to him."

"What happened?"

"Agent Gibbs killed him."

"Wow. I never would have guessed all that from this little report," Loren said.

"That's because I only filled out this report to account for my time here. What you should do is scan it and then send a copy over to Headquarters. It can get filed with that case."

"Okay." Loren took the file back. He stood to go, but then, he turned back. "So that was your first case?"

Tim shook his head. "No. My first case was more exciting."

"_More_ exciting?"

"Yeah. It started with some guys on a loading dock discovering a body in a barrel of lye."

"Yuck."

"Yeah. I nearly threw up. An evironmental activist had killed him and then taken his place on a submarine. He had planned on releasing sarin gas into the sub to kill everyone on board. He was getting revenge for whales that might have been killed by submarine sonar."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That was when I first met Agent Gibbs and his team. That was the team I got onto when I was first made a field agent."

"So...what happened?"

"Huh?" Tim asked. He'd fallen into reminiscences.

"You said that you quit and now you're back...and back at Norfolk, not in DC where you were before. Why? ...if you don't mind my asking."

"I don't mind. Basically, I was undercover and everything went wrong for me. The case turned out all right, but I fell apart. I had a mental breakdown. I was committed to a psychiatric facility for about six months, and I had...other issues."

Loren's mouth was actually open a little bit.

"I won't bite, Agent Murphy."

"No. It's not that, sir. I...I'm surprised that you came back."

"This is all I ever wanted...just like you. I had a different motivation, but I always wanted to be in law enforcement. In spite of everything that happened, it's still where I want to be...which is why I'm here now."

Loren nodded.

"And that stack of files isn't going to get any smaller if you stand in here gaping at me."

Loren flushed again.

"Sorry, sir. It's just that I'm...impressed."

"That wasn't the reaction I expected."

"I can see that there's stuff that you're not saying...and that's fine. It's not my business. It must have been really bad, but you're back, and you seem to still like what you're doing."

"I do."

"Then, all I can say is...wow. ...and I'll get back to work."

Tim nodded and stared thoughtfully at the door after it closed. That was the first time he'd told someone completely unconnected to everything what had happened, even in very vague strokes. It had gone better than he'd thought it would. With a smile to himself, he leaned over his own work and continued. Alex had asked him to compile a list of everything that would need to be done when they got the MCRT. Tim suspected that was why she'd been called to DC, although she hadn't said so.

He was so focused on it that he didn't notice anything outside the office for hours. So when Alex came charging in, he was taken completely by surprise.

"Tim!"

"Alex!" Tim said. "What's going on? When did you get back?"

"Two minutes ago. I've worn him down at last!" she said with a grin.

"Huh?"

"Vance! He said that starting next year, we'll have funding for a full MCRT here."

Now, she had all his attention.

"I'm going to be the team lead...and I want you as my senior field agent. If _you_ want it."

"Are you sure that's what you want, Alex? I might be more trouble than I'm worth."

Alex sat down across from.

"Absolutely not. Tim, you're the first permanent team member I've had and I've _never_ been disappointed. The position is yours if you want it. You've more than earned it."

"If you want me, then, I'm more than happy to be here, Alex."

"No temptation to go back?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I don't want to go back. I want to go forward."

Alex smiled.

"Okay. Getting this ready is going to be crazy. Are you ready for that?"

"Absolutely. You've been talking about this since I started working with you. We've been getting ready almost constantly."

"True enough," Alex said. "I don't want to overwhelm you, though. I know you're not up to full form yet; so don't let me forget that."

"I won't," Tim said, but he was grinning. He wasn't worried about that.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Excited now...and I think that Agent Murphy would be a good addition, if he's interested."

"I'll take your suggestion. Vance said that he'd give me some options to fill the ranks. He's also going to give us some funding to revamp the office, make more suitable for an MCRT, and he said he wants to keep up the temporary assignments of the Agents Afloat when the ships come in. It's worked well and he doesn't want to fix what's not broken."

"Good."

Alex suddenly laughed.

"I've been trying to get this for so long...now that it's a possibility, I hardly know how to react."

"I think you're reacting right," Tim said.

"How can you be so _calm_, Tim?"

"I'm excited. I'm just letting you do the celebrating."

Alex stood up.

"Tim, I will never regret taking you on. Vance told me about you when he first approved the assignment, but he also said that I'd be hard-pressed to find someone better. He was right. You have been an asset, and you've been someone I'm glad to have you working with me."

Alex headed out of the office and paused.

"Thank you, Tim."

"For what?"

"Being willing to be here."

"Thanks for letting me," Tim said.


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_One month later..._

Tim was sitting at his desk, typing. It had been a long time since he'd felt like writing. It was something he'd been getting back to, and with his desk, he liked sitting there whether he was writing or not.

After hearing the news from Alex, Tim had shared it out to his family, to Matt and Judith, to Ducky, and to his friends in DC. They'd insisted on celebrating, and Tim had been okay with that. He'd invited them all down to Norfolk and they'd gone out and partied...sort of. It was dinner, but it was a very lively dinner.

Then, it had been back to work. There was a lot to do to get Norfolk ready to have an MCRT again, and Tim was determined to get everything right.

But now, he was in a contemplative mood as he sat at his desk. He stopped typing and ran his fingers over the perfectly smooth surface. His jazz was playing softly on his record player, and Jethro was lying on his doggie bed, panting contentedly.

It had been a nice evening.

His contemplation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Surprised, Tim walked over, looked through the peephole and smiled. He opened the door.

"Hey, Ducky. What brings you here?"

"Today is a special, Timothy."

"It is?"

Tim stepped aside and let Ducky come in.

"Yes. It is."

"What is it?"

Ducky sat down on the couch.

"It's the anniversary of the day you chose to get your life back. The day you admitted that you weren't happy the way you were and that you wanted more."

"It is? I hadn't really thought about it."

"I have. Many times. I remember that night when you were sitting on my front porch, in a daze, unaware of where you were, asking to be kept safe. I can't tell you how many times I have be grateful that you came to me, that, instead of anywhere else you could have gone, you chose to come to my home and ask for help."

"Are you sure of that, Ducky? I gave you no end of grief."

"And no end of joy, Timothy."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. Ducky seemed to notice.

"I have been privileged to help you regain your life. Once lost, the only positive would be to see it come back again. You have recovered beyond any estimate I could have made. I never would have guessed that the possibility of your full recovery, such as I see here, was anything but remote. I look at you now and I would not guess how far you fell because you have risen to such heights."

Tim felt his throat tighten a little.

"If I have, Ducky, it's because of you. Those times when I fell, I couldn't have got out of those...depths without help, and you were always there to help me. You never gave up, even when I did. If you're grateful to have been there, I'm grateful that you _were_ there because I have it all back again, not in the same way that I thought I would, but I have my job back. I have my friends back. I have myself. I have _myself_, Ducky. I'm not afraid of that, and that means so much. Whatever happens next, I feel like I can handle it."

"And that is the greatest reward of all," Ducky said firmly.

Tim nodded. He looked around at the life he'd built from the ashes of his old life. He knew who he was.

...and he was happy.

FINIS!

* * *

><p>AN: This may have been the hardest story to end that I've ever written. Not only was it hard to end this story, but it was also hard to end the series. I got Tim to the place I wanted him to be, but the story could go on forever. I may revisit it, but right now, this is the end of the series. Thanks for coming along for this crazy ride! It ended up being much longer than I had planned.


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